If It Meant Living: Tales
by Graceyn
Summary: A series of one-shots set in the IIML universe, telling some of the stories that weren't told in the main trilogy. Any event, involving any of the main characters, any time between the First Contact War and 7 years after the end of the Reaper War, i.e., the end of IIML , is fair game. They won't be in chronological order, but they will be concretely placed in time and setting.
1. Trenches

**If It Meant Living: Tales**

"**Trenches"**

* * *

_**2188: Two Years after the End of the Reaper War**_

* * *

**_Systems Alliance Operating Base, Watson Colony: Skepsis System, Sigurd's Cradle_**

James Vega hurried into the Command Center, shrugging his jacket off his shoulders as the door closed behind him. It was too damn cold on Watson for his taste. Next shore leave, Rio. He nodded to himself as he grabbed some coffee from the beverage dispenser, smiling slightly as he took a long sip and felt the warmth spread through his chest and into his veins. _Yep. Definitely Rio._

He started to head to his closet, aka "office," when the comm specialist on duty stopped him. "Commander, I'm glad I caught you; you have an incoming priority comm on the QEC from Admiral Hackett."

He glanced over at the man, an eyebrow idly raised. While quantum communications had advanced to a hub-and-spoke style network and the technology had been rolled out to virtually all military bases and starships, QEC comms were still generally reserved for highly sensitive information; he couldn't think of a time he had used it in the four months he had been stationed on Watson.

He reversed direction and walked into the oddly stifling QEC room. Intellectually he knew that it was just because the walls were lined with eight centimeters of sound-absorbing material, as well as active noise-cancelling waves that reverberated in the gap between the double walls; still he found the hyper-silence unnerving. Not his favorite room.

He hit the comm link, straightening his stance and saluting crisply as Hackett's projection materialized, then clasping his hands behind his back in an easy parade rest and nodding brusquely. "Sir."

"Commander. Apologies for the urgent call, but we have a critical situation on Sanctum, and yours is the only squad both close enough to get there in time and capable of dealing with the matter."

He grinned a little. About time for some action; nothing of consequence happened on Watson that didn't involve the local wildlife. "Of course, sir. Glad to help."

Hackett's lips pursed as he paced within the confines of the projection. "You should know, Commander…that's not the only reason I'm turning to you for this mission."

He frowned slightly. "I'm not sure I understand, sir. What's the situation?"

Five minutes later he jogged quickly down the hallway towards the Command Center exit, hitting his comm as he pulled his jacket _back_ over his shoulders. "Echo Squad, this is your Commander. I hope no one is plastered or sleeping one off, because we are wheels up in half an hour. Get your big-boy guns and your cold-weather gear and meet me at the transport on the double."

... ... ...

James clasped Cortez' shoulder warmly but briefly as the man settled into the pilot's chair, taking care to keep it professional – work hours and all.

Steve glanced over the back of the chair and smiled as he began the pre-flight checks. "Hell of short notice, Vega. What's the deal?"

James returned the smile, though it carried a trace of concern that did not go unnoticed by Steve. "We have to go rescue an old friend."

Curiosity thoroughly piqued, Steve was about to prompt him for more information when the final members of the team hopped aboard and James turned to head to the back. "Get us to Sanctum, Esteban – and get us there _yesterday_."

He stepped into the main compartment of the shuttle, reaching up and grabbing the support bar overhead as they lifted off.

"Okay, boys and girls. This mission is Priority Red, special request straight from the top. It is _also_ Ultra-Super-Secret Classified, so no bragging to your friend-with-benefits about it later."

Stanzia reached over and punched Moren in the arm, cackling in delight as she propped a boot up on the storage bench that ran the length of the shuttle. "You hear that Dmitri? Make sure not to tell your right hand what your left hand did while it was at work today."

Moren cracked a broad grin, unfazed by the barb. "Yeah, well at least my right hand don't run on batteries – " He quickly ducked as a thermal clip flew over his head.

James rolled his eyes in amusement, but cleared his throat nonetheless. It wasn't always easy to remember that he was in command now – a _Staff Commander_ for fuck's sake – and thus no longer 'one of the guys.' He still believed in keeping it real though, so he tried to run an operation that was tight and tough performance-wise but relaxed and informal on a personal level. The last few minutes told him he was succeeding at the latter…today more than ever, he hoped like hell he was succeeding at the former.

"Alright, alright, cut it out ladies. This isn't recess, and it isn't training – this is as serious as it gets, so listen up. We are enroute to Sanctum, a human colony next door in Decoris. Here are the things you need to know: One – it sucks there. It's cold as shit – a hell of a lot colder than Watson – it's prone to gale-force windstorms, and it has a nasty habit of thermal inversions with carbon dioxide spikes, so breather masks are mandatory. Two – ice mining is the only business in town, which means it's dirty and it's rough; none of the colonists are going to be primping for cotillion any time soon."

He let go of the support bar as he felt the shuttle leave Watson's atmosphere and begin speeding through the vacuum of space. "And finally, three – it finds itself with a small Yahg infestation problem. Don't know how they managed it, but somehow they got their claws on at least one starship, which they promptly took to Sanctum and launched a little massacre for shits and giggles."

"Our mission is to get the colonists trapped by the Yahg to safety, reinforce the tiny Alliance contingent currently trying to protect those colonists and stay alive – and lastly, kill all the Yahg. Any questions?"

Dmitri Moren slowly raised his hand; James acknowledged him with a slight nod. "Shoot, Moren."

"Sir…what's a Yahg?"

... ... ...

**_Vulpes, capital city of Sanctum Colony: Decoris System, Sigurd's Cradle_**

James quickly motioned everyone into the wrecked building as he flattened against the doorway. The colony looked like it had been hit by an aerial bombing run; he couldn't believe creatures on foot, even Yahg, could cause this much damage at all, much less in a few days. The streets were deserted, save for the bodies lying torn apart in the streets. He knew the Yahg were sentient and intelligent, with a society and technology on par with Earth of 250 years ago, but goddamn they were brutal. He was starting to wonder if there was anyone left alive…

Nah, forget that. There was definitely at least one person still alive; of that he was certain.

The cold, biting wind, howling and fighting against them incessantly for the last half-hour as they had approached the small fortification on the outskirts of the capital city of Vulpes, suddenly stilled. An eerie, calm silence descended as the air became thick and all the oxygen seemed to evaporate –

"Masks on, _now_!" He yanked his breather mask up, counting as the members of his squad ran past him…18…19…he looked down the street and saw the tiny Japanese engineer struggling with his gear as he stumbled out in the open. "Yimonchi, get your fucking mask on! Shit…"

He took off running, closing the meters between them, grabbing the man's mask that was dangling by a cord from his arm, shoving it up onto his face, and dragging him into the relative safety of the building.

After several deep gasps of oxygen, Yimonchi glanced over at Vega. "Sorry about that, sir…I was trying to get some readings on the atmospheric changes; it's really quite a fascinating phenomenon…"

"Of _course_ you were; damn but you remind me of Sparks way too much sometimes."

"Sir?"

"Just a Quarian I know. Get some oxygen and get back on your game. We still need to get to our objective – and _then_ the real work begins."

The man nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."

He took a deep, calming breath, and pulled up the colony schematic on his Omni-tool. "We're almost to the location of the Alliance…stronghold, such as it is. Two blocks ahead, left for three blocks, down the hill and fifty meters into the cold, icy, fucking wilderness. Everybody ready?"

"Yes, si– " A roar shattered the relative quiet of the abandoned building. James glanced out the cracked window to the street beyond. "Moren, _that_ would be a Yahg. How 'bout we dispose of it?"

... ... ...

Explosions rang out behind him. James grinned to himself, knowing they were the result of the proximity mines he had ordered placed mere moments ago, and had surely resulted in the rending apart of more than one invading Yahg.

He sprinted the final ten meters and slid down the frozen dirt slope into a small gulley, then looked over to his right, wearing a smirk that was in no way hidden by the translucent mask covering his mouth.

"What's an Admiral doing pinned down in a trench on a shithole backwater world like this one?"

Graceyn Shepard sighted down on a Yahg in the distance, squeezed the trigger, and sent a bullet through its skull – which did at least slow it down a bit – then glared over at him.

"Getting my Admiral's ass kicked, obviously." She exhaled heavily and leaned against the embankment-turned-makeshift barricade. "Good to see you James; nice of you to drop in for a visit. Wish the weather was better though, it might limit our sightseeing…"

He took a moment to inspect her. A deep, ragged cut across her forehead had clotted beneath hastily-applied Medi-gel; streaks of dirt covered her face and neck. Her hair was pulled back in a tangled mess of a ponytail; several dark splotches of blood stood out against the lighter red of her hair. The armor plating on one of her gloves was cracked open across the knuckles, the edges of the cracks caked in dried blood. A thin sheen of sweat coated her skin despite the freezing temperatures…but her eyes danced with as much light and fire as they always had. _Yep, she was definitely alive. Just as he'd known she would be._

He huffed a laugh. "Shepard, did you _punch_ a Yahg?"

"I might have…" At his look of incredulity, she rolled her eyes, shining in the midst of the dark and the fog. "What? It was in my way."

She flexed her hand then, cringing slightly with the movement. "I don't suppose you brought enough soldiers with you to get us out of this little situation?"

"Hell, Shepard, I figured you and I would be plenty; not like we haven't done it before." He lobbed a frag grenade over his shoulder for good measure as his team took up positions in the encampment. "But I _did_ bring a few friends, just in case…"

"Good; maybe I trained you well enough after all."

His eyes cut over to her. "Yeah, well, who's holed up in the trench and who's doing the rescuing?"

Her shoulders sagged – only very slightly, a few centimeters at most, but enough to be noticeable to someone who knew her well – and for the briefest moment she looked very, very tired. He immediately softened his expression and the tone of his voice. "So what's the sitrep? You seem to be kind of…alone…here."

She gestured towards the scrawny-looking forest that began about fifty meters beyond their location. "I got all the colonists I could back into those woods; the eight remaining Alliance soldiers are protecting them – from anything that gets around me, that is. This gulley is right smack in-between the main colony and those woods, so they pretty much have to come through me to get to the colonists."

"Trying to add 'Hero of Sanctum' to your long list of titles – "

He was abruptly cut off as a Yahg came out of nowhere and dove over the embankment. A grenade was thrown by one of his men, knocking the Yahg off its feet briefly, and Shepard took the opportunity to hurl _throws_ at it repeatedly. The Yahg staggered backwards, pelted with James' shotgun blasts as blue energy pulsed around it.

He spared a sideward glance at Shepard – and found her focused outward, hand thrust forward, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched…much as he had seen her so often during the brief period of time that had changed the course of the universe. And he smiled to himself…because in that moment, he knew they would win. Again.

Nonetheless, he shouted into his comm as the dusk sky lit up in fire. "Moren, Ramirez, Tsanka, target this monster! Yimonchi, Sanchez, Smithson, swing around behind and cut any others off – "

He ducked instinctively as a grenade flew over their heads and into the trench…then Shepard shifted her focus in the blink of an eye and encased the grenade in a _stasis_ field, gently sending it back out to explode harmlessly in the field beyond.

"_Hell_, Shepard, with mad skills like that why did you need me to rescue you at all – " He emptied the rest of the thermal clip into the staggering Yahg, until at last its head exploded in blood and bone and gore.

He sighed as he wiped pieces of Yahg off his cheek. It had been nearly a year since he had killed an alien; thirty seconds with Shepard and he was already covered in gore…

She wiped the scope on her rifle clean of blood then ejected her own spent thermal clip and reloaded. "Because I can't shield more than half a dozen grenades while protecting more than four dozen colonists in greater than a half-square-kilometer area while armed with only my rifle and my biotics at any given time. And right now, the parameters are a _little_ beyond that…"

He conceded the point with a slight tilt of his head. "Fair enough. Where's Alenko? Isn't he usually with you on these little soirées?"

She peered over the edge of the embankment. "Halfway across the galaxy on Zorya, bailing another Spectre out of trouble. Couldn't make it."

"Okay…" He motioned for Vinern and Ramirez to move to a flanking position at the far end of the trench. "Then how did _you_ end up here?"

She took advantage of the moment of relative quiet to sink back against the frozen dirt. "The Dynamis Corp facility sent out a garbled distress call, which was intercepted by STG, for reasons that were not clear at the time; three hours later, STG sent a muddled request to the Council for a Spectre to investigate."

She pulled her canteen to her mouth, greedily slurping down the ice-cold, nutrient-laced water. "This colony was crawling with Cerberus during the War; seeing as how we're still tracking down and taking out isolated elements, I volunteered. Figured I would requisition the local Alliance platoon if things got dicey…but by the time I arrived, half of them were already dead and the colony was overrun – " she glanced over the ridge " – more on the way, far left."

She suddenly looked back over the ridge again. "Give me some grenades."

He opened his mouth to protest – then remember who he was talking to. "How many?"

Her eyes scanned the area to their left. "Three should get it done." He quickly handed them over.

"Be right back." She took off running, staying below the ridge of the gulley. After about twenty meters she stopped and quickly lobbed the grenades in a tight pattern; they landed about fifteen meters out and exploded harmlessly. She spun around and hurried back, sliding in next to him.

He grumbled in annoyance. "Shepard, I only brought so many grenades…"

She grinned. "Just watch."

Eight seconds later three Yahg appeared out of the darkness. He quickly hit his comm. "Vinern, Ramirez, get ready – "

Shepard placed a hand on his arm. "Just _watch_."

He suddenly felt like the cocky Lieutenant of three years ago being put in his place again, but he acquiesced and stared out into the growing darkness.

The Yahg barreled towards them. He twitched. One let out a roar – then they disappeared.

He squinted in the dim light, trying to make out where they had gone. Failing, his gaze shot over to her. "Okay. _What_ was that?"

She dropped her head back against the dirt, smirking with the rush of a victory, however small. "Sanctum's equatorial region is dry, sure, but it's not completely without water. I noticed a frozen-over pond in that area when we were running for our lives and I nearly slipped and busted my ass on the ice. It looked like the ice was probably thin enough for the grenades to break it open."

He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "And per usual, you were right…" He sank down a bit beside her. "So how did the Yahg get here? I thought they were quarantined and pre-spaceflight."

He could see her mouth tighten behind the mask. "Yeah…that would be my fault."

"Commander? I mean Admir– Shepard, what the hell are you talking about?"

She gazed back at him, and for a second her eyes seemed to bear the weight of far too many difficult decisions. "You remember when we went to Sur'Kesh at the beginning of the War?"

He shrugged. "Sure; nice looking planet. They got really pissed if you touched anything though…"

"While we were there, I discovered research logs indicating that, along with several other nefarious projects, the Salarians were planning to begin covertly uplifting the Yahg. I later made a deal with the Dalatrass – STG engineers for the Crucible Project and the Salarian Fleet for the final battle, in return for my silence." She sighed heavily. "I'd say they went right on along with their plans; probably gave the Yahg a starship as a gesture of goodwill – well, hopefully only _one_ starship anyway."

James nodded tightly. "Our scans on approach indicated only one unregistered ship in the area."

He watched her for a moment – the battle-hardened, beautiful warrior, risen from the grave only to be tested in fire time and time again, yet always finding a way to emerge victorious.

Medical advancements meant that physical scars on a body were now largely a relic of the past, except of course for those whose owners chose for their own reasons to keep them. Her scars would all be on the inside…but only rarely did she give any indication of even their existence. "You did what you had to in order to win the war, Shepard. It was a necessary trade; you know that."

"I do. Doesn't make it any easier to see the bodies." She smiled grimly. "But at least the secret will be out now, and we can bring an end to the Salarians' little project."

The look in her eyes suddenly and without warning shifted from weight and sorrow to focused and calculating. "The ship a Salarian frigate?" At his nod she checked her clips and weapons, then secured her mask firmly. "That means no more than thirty, forty at _most _of them to start. I've seen at least twenty go down, and I assume you took out a few on your way; they've got to be rather weak by now. Want to make a go at it?"

He huffed a breath. "Hell, yes. Just like old times." He hit his comm. "Echo Team, form up. We're going in."

... ... ...

_**Six Hours Later** _

Shepard clasped Cortez in a tight hug. "Steve, it's so good to see you again."

He returned the hug then pulled back slightly. "Same here, Shepard. You look…well, about the same as you always did on a mission pick-up…" She grinned and rolled her eyes melodramatically, making a show of wiping blood and sweat from her brow.

"I'm guessing you need a ride? I'll be happy to take you wherever you need to go."

She patted his shoulder. "Watson will be just fine; I can get a transport from there no problem."

Further conversation was cut off when James grabbed her by the hand and pulled her into the main hold of the shuttle, where his team was securing their gear and settling in. "Time for proper introductions. These are my guys. Shepard – Echo Squad. Echo Squad – Shepard."

Most of them jerked up from whatever they were doing, rushing to straighten their backs and free their hands for salutes.

The fact that she was the youngest Admiral in modern human history – whether you counted the two years she was dead or not – was of course completely overshadowed by the fact that, in a slight-of-hand that would be recounted through the ages, she had done what none in literally billions of years had been able to accomplish; she had defeated the Reapers and freed the inhabitants of the galaxy to at last make their own destiny. The fact that when encountered in person she also happened to be beautiful, charming and disarmingly personable was just icing on the legend.

She returned the salutes, smiling as her chin dipped slightly in appreciation. "At ease, _please _–you all just saved my life, for which I am most grateful." Her gaze cut over to James, then back to the troops, eyes twinkling with delight. "You guys have got a damn fine Commander, here…just don't tell him I said so; it might go to his head."

Easing into the relaxed atmosphere Shepard was creating, Stanzia smirked at Vega. "Don't think the shuttle will hold him if his head gets any bigger, ma'am."

James spread his arms wide, palms turned upward, and shrugged. "We'll just have to get us a bigger shuttle then, won't we? Come on, Shepard, let's give these miscreants some space before they make too much of a mess drooling over you." He motioned her towards the relative quiet of the back of the shuttle.

She collapsed into the rear jump seat as he sat down opposite her. "So James, it's been, what…eight, nine months? How've you been?"

He groaned. "Bored."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Well…I can see if I can find some more Reapers, or, hell, we could just go attack the Yahg homeworld for shits and giggles. I wouldn't want you to not be entertained…"

His nose scrunched up slightly. "Nah…on second thought, I'm good." He smiled then, with an aura of familiarity born of more than one life and death struggle faced together. "Actually, things have been pretty damn good. Finished up my N4 last month – you really weren't lying, ICT is tough as fuck – and I'm starting to get used to commanding these guys. Managed to get Esteban assigned to the Watson base…and he's not under my command, not really, so…it's working out so far."

She smiled affectionately at him. "I'm glad; it's good to see you two together."

He rolled his eyes to cover his mild embarrassment; he wasn't exactly comfortable talking about relationships and feelings and all that shit, not even with her. "You know, Shepard, it's just a suggestion, but…have you ever thought about, oh I don't know, _taking it easy_? After all, you did save the galaxy, die, get resurrected, save the galaxy again, and nearly die again. No one would argue if you just wanted to live the good life."

She shrugged lightly, pulling a knee up to her chest and resting her chin on it. "I _did_ take it easy. Kaidan and I went to the mountains in British Columbia; we went to Insai'sei, to Trident, to Elysium; we practically took a tour of the galaxy's most beautiful locales. And it was amazing and wonderful, all of it, and I'm sure we'll do it again. But…"

"But what?"

"But what the hell else are we going to do for the next however many hundred years? Sit in lounge chairs on the beach and sip champagne? I'm a marine – and so is he. It's what we _do_."

His head tilted a bit, the slightest challenge in his voice. "That and you couldn't live without the adrenaline rush? Or was it the attention?"

She chuckled lightly, not appearing to take offense at the insinuation. "I'm not going to lie to you – more often than not, I'm having a damn good time. And the power, the ability to influence people and events? It's pretty fucking cool. But…"

She pulled the other knee up to join the first, draping her arms over them. "After I blew up the Collector Base, Liara asked me why I fought, why I willingly took on such heavy burdens. And the answer was and still is: I fight because I _can_, when so many others cannot. Yes, because I'm damn good at it – but because that means in doing so, I give all those who can't fight the chance to live their lives – good lives, raising their children, achieving great things or small things – all without having to worry about horrific threats they can do nothing to change. Because I _can_ change them."

He stared at her incredulously as his head shook. "Damn, Shepard, way to go all deep on me. I mean, I _get_ it, I fight to save people too, and because – well, you know my past. But if it's all the same to you, I'm not going to think any harder on it and just move on."

She let go of her knees and stretched her legs out across the floor. "Uh-huh. Forgive me if near-death experiences bring out the philosopher within."

"Yeah, I don't have one of those." He stood up suddenly, grabbing the overhead bar and swinging idly. "Still, the lounge chairs and champagne have got to be pretty damn tempting; I know right about now _I_ could probably be talked into that…" He felt her gaze piercing into his skull, and sighed audibly. "Ah, hell, what am I saying? I'd be bored in two weeks flat."

His head cocked to the side. "Actually, did I mention that I was bored now? The truth is this was the first _real_ combat I've seen since…I don't even know…"

He chuckled briefly as he sat back down opposite her. "This what happens when we've won all the battles? Killed all the bad guys?"

She raised a disputing eyebrow. "These cuts and bruises would beg to differ with your assessment of the situation…" Her voice trailed off, gaze drifting to the floor as her eyes narrowed.

James stared at her. "Uh-oh."

She glanced up at him. "What?"

"I know that look. You're up to something."

The corners of her mouth pulled up slightly. "Maybe…I need to do some more thinking." She stood up as the shuttle's trajectory leveled off, pacing slowly around the back of the shuttle. "But _hypothetically_…say I was to be able to offer you a little more excitement in your life. Would you be interested?"

He grinned, already imagining the possibilities. "Considering your definition of excitement? Just say the word."

* * *

**_The Citadel: Widow System, Serpent Nebula – Three Days Later_**

Shepard walked into Councilor Anderson's office and plopped down on the couch, crossing one leg casually over the other and draping an arm on the cushion. He was on his comm, and she waited patiently for him to finish.

"…yes, I know that the Batarians' infrastructure is still in disrepair…we are of course committing a number of funds to the effort, but the Council's resources are not infinite…_yes_, I'll make sure the matter is discussed at the next meeting…"

He cut the link, squeezing his eyes shut and massaging his temples. "Shepard, remind me again why you talked me into taking this job, _again_?"

"Because you're still the best representative humanity has…" her eyes twinkled deviously "…and because you drive the other Councilors nuts, and that's _never_ getting old."

"Oh come on, Sparatus is the only original Councilor still around, and he's unflappable."

She shrugged. "Yeah, but you drive the new Councilors nuts too, don't you?"

His eyes narrowed threateningly. "If you take such pleasure from annoying them, why don't _you_ be the Councilor? I'm sure – "

She cut him off with a vehement shake of her head. "Nooooo, thank you. I'm having far too much fun running around doing whatever the hell I want."

Her expression grew serious then, even tender. Over the years this man had been many things to her: savior, mentor, martyr, adversary, reluctant ally, champion, protector…and finally, dear friend. "You're a great Councilor, Anderson, whether you want to admit it or not…and besides, after all you went through on Earth, I thought maybe you'd had enough fighting for a while."

He slowly let out a breath as his gaze seemed to drift to a faraway place. "Enough for a lifetime, perhaps…" After a few seconds he cleared his throat and straightened up his chair. "Now, you didn't come here to talk about me – what do you need?"

She smiled, and it was that wicked smile that let him know immediately he was surely in trouble. "I can't just drop in for no reason to see a friend?"

"Sure, you _can_ – but I know that look, and this is not a social call."

"What, do I have my thoughts written in capital letters on my forehead or something? Between you and James, I'm suddenly feeling too clever by half." She sighed dramatically, hands rising in concession. "Fine…I have a request."

He huffed a laugh. "_Uh-oh._ Okay, lay it on me."

She nodded, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward, dropping her elbows to her knees. "I need a squad."

He frowned slightly. "Unless things have changed recently, I'm fairly certain that as an Admiral you can have a squad whenever you want."

She shook her head. "That's not what I mean. I just got my ass _kicked_ on Sanctum because we had bad intel, insufficient support and manpower, and crossed lines of communication. Too many soldiers and civilians died because we weren't equipped to deal with the situation – and I do _not_ intend to be put in that position again."

Her gaze shifted to the open ledge and to the Presidium sky beyond. "Everyone's been playing nice and cozy since the end of the War, but that isn't going to last forever; the truth is, the galaxy is still a very dangerous place."

Her eyes returned to meet his. "So here's what I want: an elite, multi-species rapid response force, under the purview of the Council. It will – "

"You want to militarize the Council? Everyone may be playing nice and cozy, but I'm not sure we're ready for that just yet."

"I know, and that's not what I'm suggesting; not _really_. I'm talking no more than a hundred personnel; they would stay attached to their respective militaries, only being called into action when needed – and for regular and intensive training, of course. It would exist largely under the radar – not black ops, but discrete. And it would have independent authority. Any sovereign government and the Council could request its intervention in a situation – and it could refuse."

His eyes widened incredulously. "Refuse the Council?"

She smirked a little, chin dipping slightly. "Maybe that can be a matter for further negotiation. The important thing is that it would consist of the best soldiers in the galaxy and would be able to respond rapidly and efficiently to any crisis that arises."

He mulled it over a moment. "The Spectres are already capable of dealing with many of the problems that come up…"

She shook her head slowly. "Spectres are lone wolves. That's what makes us so good at what we do; we can use stealth, assassination, negotiation, sabotage or whatever else fits the situation. But the Spectres are not an army. I'm talking about a military force for dealing with situations that a Spectre _already_ can't handle."

He idly rocked his chair, fingertips pressed together at his chin as he pondered the idea. "And you would lead this little army, I presume?"

She leaned back into the couch, laughing in delight. "Hell yes, I would."

... ... ...

Kaidan unlocked the door and opened it quietly, not wanting to wake Graceyn if she was sleeping. He exhaled softly and smiled to himself as he stepped inside, grateful to be _home_.

He found Shepard very much awake. She was standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out at the Ward arms and the nebula beyond, a glass of wine in one hand, her other arm resting across her waist. She wore only a white tank top and faded gray shorts that hugged her curves as if they were custom-made for her. It surely wasn't possible that she had grown more beautiful in the few brief weeks since he had last seen her…yet he couldn't deny the truth in front of him.

He dropped his bag absently on the floor and approached her as she turned around. She smiled tenderly as his arms encircled her waist, hers draping over his shoulders. "Welcome home…" Her voice drifted off as his lips met hers in a slow, gentle, yet needful kiss. _Welcome home._

And for perhaps the thousandth time in the last two years, he realized anew that it had all been worth it – the struggles, the loss, the fear, the pain. Everything. It would be worth it a million times over, for _this_ feeling, right here.

He was smiling when she pulled back slightly, her gaze drifting to the still-healing gash along his jaw. Her fingertips carefully traced it as her eyes returned to his. "Zorya a little more exciting than you were expecting?"

"Maybe a little." His hand mirrored hers then, lightly caressing the still-healing cut along her forehead. "Sanctum a little more exciting than you were expecting?"

Her lips curled up in a crooked grin. "Maybe a little."

She dropped her forehead against his. "I tell you what. We will each recount our respective adventures in full, bloody detail to one another…" His voice joined hers, whispering in unison as he closed the centimeter of distance between them.

"…tomorrow."


	2. Shadows

**If It Meant Living: Tales**

"**Shadows"**

* * *

_**November, 2183: One Month after Destruction of SSV Normandy SR-1**_

* * *

_Omega Station: __Sahrabarik System, Omega Nebula_

"Feron, come on! Let's go!" Liara spun around on the ship ramp, her eyes widening in horror as two of the Shadow Broker's agents grabbed the Drell, one by his throat and the other by his arms, and began dragging him away. "Feron!"

He gasped in a gulp of air through the ironclad lock on his throat. "Liara, go! Go now – save Shepard!"

She raised her palm, reading a powerful _throw_ aimed at the thugs holding Feron – then a Collector climbed up the ramp, grasping at her foot and throwing her off balance. Her face fell, despair taking over as she stumbled back from the Collector and the ship ramp began to close.

"Feron…"

... ... ...

_Lazarus Research Station: Location Unknown_

Miranda paced quickly around the sterile, unadorned conference room, her mind already racing through the forty-seven decisions she would have to make in the next thirty-six hours if there was to be any hope whatsoever of salvaging the wreck of meat and bones that lay in the sealed lab three rooms down.

She sucked in a breath and plastered on a fake smile as she turned back to the Asari sitting at the table. "You did well, Dr. T'Soni. Shepard obviously made some very good, capable friends. I just wish I had some better news for you…"

Liara's head jerked up, her eyes pleading for exactly that. Better news.

Miranda tried to look vaguely discouraged, as she had seen others do in similar – well, not that there had ever _been_ anything similar to this, but at least vaguely analogous – situations. "The body is in worse shape than we expected…we're prepared to spend all the resources available to us, but it will take a very long time – years – if it works at all." She thought perhaps she was supposed to place a hand on Liara's shoulder…but she just couldn't bring herself to do it.

Liara's brow furrowed as she nodded slowly. "I understand…what will the Illusive Man do about Feron?"

Miranda shrugged dismissively. "The Drell knew the risks when he offered to help recover Shepard's body. We won't be going after him. If you want to, that's your business – " she smiled politely " – but I'd focus on something else if I were you. Do something _you_ want to do." _And get out of my hair so I can get to making forty-seven – oh look, now it's forty-nine – decisions._

Liara stood and walked over to the viewports, stoically gazing out at the stars. "That's exactly what I'm going to do, Miranda. I've got another friend to help now – and I've made a new enemy."

* * *

_**January, 2184**_

_Nos Astra, Illium: Tasale System, Crescent Nebula _

The glittering lights of Nos Astra's towering skyscrapers nearly turned night into day as Liara stepped off the transport. She had no time to gawk, however, as she was immediately approached by an attractive if officious-looking Asari.

"Dr. T'Soni? I'm Nadalia Lidos."

Liara appraised the matron briefly. Attractive, graceful, controlled…yet as soon as she accepted Lidos' outstretched hand, one impression rose above all others. _Cold. Calculating._ This may be the first such person she met on Illium, but she had a deep suspicion it would not be the last. She knew full well she was walking into a viper's nest of scheming, corruption and manipulation.

She notched her chin up slightly, giving a cool smile in return. "Thank you for meeting me, Nadalia," using the matron's first name to establish assumed superiority, something she had seen her mother do on multiple occasions, "I trust the arrangements I requested have been made?"

Nadalia nodded slightly. This wasn't the first haughty, over-privileged maiden to waltz onto Illium thinking they would tame it, and it would not be the last – which was fine, because that meant she would continue to rake in the credits catering to their needs. "Of course, Dr. T'Soni. My associates were quite pleased to be able to provide the child of Matriarch Benezia with whatever was needed to establish a presence in Nos Astra. If you'll come with me, I can show you around, including the office space you've been given, then take to your apartment."

... ... ...

Several interminable hours later, Liara closed the door to her apartment and leaned heavily against it. It had been _exhausting_ keeping up a cool, unimpressed demeanor as she had been "shown" the important locales of Nos Astra. She had felt like she was drowning in an oppressive sea of opulence; she had felt like she could hardly breathe through all the sounds, the lights, the sheer _bodies_. Right now she would give anything for the peaceful, enveloping silence of Prothean ruins, surrounded by nothing but the dead and their secrets.

But she wasn't here for her personal comfort; she had a larger purpose. So she had somehow managed to maintain the façade of the glamorous, privileged, maiden daughter of a revered matriarch…or at the very least had managed to keep her eyes from growing too wide or her mouth from gaping too low.

And now, at last, she was alone. She sank onto the couch and looked around. Her office had been well-appointed but modest; her apartment, however…

Her mother may have been revered for her wisdom, intelligence and experience, but that didn't mean she hadn't also acquired a relatively large amount of wealth, undoubtedly by utilizing those very traits. Liara had been her only heir…she supposed she _had_ been the privileged maiden in that it had never occurred to her to wonder how much money her mother held, or where the credits had come from. It had simply been natural for her to attend the most prestigious universities and to travel on the most exclusive internships, then to receive sponsorships for the Prothean dig sites of her choice.

It had turned out that the answer to the unpondered question was _quite a lot_. Her inheritance, plus the sheer weight of Benezia's name, had bought her a way in. Into Illium's elite social circle. Into an office of her own in the high-class financial district. Into a swank, luxurious, utterly _gorgeous_ apartment in the sky.

Most importantly, into the information brokerage business.

She was not on Illium to put her burdens behind her and live a life of idle luxury, as so many were and as goddess-willing one day in the future she would be able to. No, she was on Illium for one reason and one reason only – to find the Shadow Broker. The Shadow Broker wasn't _on_ Illium, of course…at least, the odds were against it. But the Shadow Broker was an information dealer; more than that, he was _the_ information dealer, the black hole around which all data flowed, drawn inexorably into his orbit.

She planned to place herself in that orbit. Then she planned to dive into that black hole, kill the Shadow Broker, and – hope against hope – rescue Feron. Rather more likely though, she would instead be avenging his death and the many wrongs the Shadow Broker had committed – goddess knows not the least of which was his attempt to sell Shepard to the Collectors so they could commit unimaginable atrocities upon her. After which she would give Feron a proper burial according to the traditions of the Drell.

She dropped her head back onto the couch cushion. Illium wasn't the only place to work; the Citadel was probably more fruitful, Thessia more sophisticated, Bekenstein more interesting. But for an Asari, Illium was both the most lucrative, and the most comfortable. A "non-official" Asari world with many rules and few laws, on Illium anything could be bought and everything could be sold.

It wouldn't be easy and it wouldn't be quick. The months spent with Shepard on a desperate race across the galaxy had tilted her brain towards the notion of urgency, of immediacy. But that race had come to a close at the Citadel, and had ended forever with Shepard's…

…_death?_

She shook her head roughly, stood up and headed for the kitchen, unsurprised at this point to find it fully stocked with a wide selection of food and drink. She began brewing some _tapola_. There was no point in thinking about Shepard, Shepard's body, what Cerberus might be doing to Shepard's body…or what might, impossibly, possibly be. Shepard was gone – and if that should somehow change in the future, well_, that would be the future_.

For now, she had a mission. This job couldn't be _that_ different from archaeology – learn what to look for, learn how to read the subtle clues and incomplete details, painstakingly reconstruct the data into a picture that made sense. She was a very, _very _good archaeologist; given time, she could be very, _very_ good at this as well.

And that would take as long as it took. For the truth, she knew deep down in her heart, was that even if he had been alive for a day, a week, a month after being captured, as the Shadow Broker's agents tortured him for whatever secrets he knew about Cerberus and anyone else…by now, Feron was surely at least as dead as Shepard…likely more so. No, she had to admit to herself in the dark of the night, her mission was not one of rescue, or even salvation.

It was one of vengeance. And it was the only thing that mattered.

She had nothing else.

* * *

_**April, 2184**_

_Nos Astra, Illium _

Liara inspected herself in the mirror. Again. The last time, honestly. Her dress was, well, far more ostentatious than anything she had worn in recent memory, certainly at a dig site or on a mission with Shepard or, frankly, _anywhere_. But her memories of dinner parties at her mother's house told her that her dress was also refined and elegant and sure to make the appropriate impression at the gatheringthis evening.

She took a deep breath, nodded to herself in the mirror, and headed for the door.

... ... ...

The Human male tilted his head in acknowledgement as she delicately grasped his hand. "Dr. T'Soni, it is a pleasure. Your mother's passing was an enormous tragedy; you have my sympathies. Yet you rose above it; you were part of Commander Shepard's crew when she saved the Citadel from the Geth, were you not?"

_It wasn't just the Geth, you foolish, ignorant Human…_ She buried the feelings that threatened to rise up in her throat, and merely nodded serenely. "I was. I can only hope I did my mother's memory the appropriate honor in helping to save the very galaxy."

He raised an eyebrow. "Touché. And so that is exactly what you did, Dr. T'Soni. A most impressive feat by what I'm sure is a most impressive woman."

She smiled mysteriously. "We shall see, shan't we?"

His smile was equally mysterious. "Yes, we certainly shall."

She swallowed nervously, but managed to keep it hidden as she dipped her chin low. This was the game, and by the goddess she would be up to it. "Mr. Richardson, isn't it? I understand you are a most respected…" she searched for a term that wouldn't be uncouth "…intelligence analyst in the Crescent Nebula. Being new to the business myself, I'm quite intrigued by the finer details…" She met his gaze. "I'm sure there is much I could learn from you."

He smiled again, and this time it was darker, and rather more predatory. "I'm sure there is…"

_She could do this. She could do this. She could_ do _this._ He was an adversary, a target, even if he didn't have a gun – and she was smarter than him. She smiled, for all the world an innocent, star-struck maiden, as she leaned in closer. "I'm sure there is…"

... ... ...

She pressed Richardson lightly against the wall of his apartment, smiling seductively. "So what would it take for a poor, innocent …" the pause was almost imperceptible "…_woman_ to learn a few of the secrets of such an illustrious man…?"

He smiled lopsidedly, the alcohol loosening his muscles until the smile was crooked and rather ridiculous looking. "I've heard tales of Asari…that making love to one is like a trip to heaven itself…I would _really_ like to experience that."

The idea that he had never been with an Asari before was absurd, of course, not that it mattered. She closed her eyes for the briefest of milliseconds. _This was the line, wasn't it?_ _Surely this was the line she had known she would have to cross._

She opened her eyes meekly, the corner of her mouth curling up _ever so slightly_. "It would be my pleasure."

Six hours later she gathered her clothes from the floor, sparing the briefest glance back at the sleeping Human in the bed. Between the alcohol and a bit of biotic meddling, he would have only the vaguest, pleasant recollection of the night. If he at some point noticed his system had been accessed, well, any concern he had would soon be displaced by the aforementioned pleasant recollection.

She turned and hurried out the door, OSD full of data on high-powered players and underworld deals. With these files she could shave months, maybe years, off her climb to the highest ranks of her 'profession'…to a level where she could hunt down the Shadow Broker.

What it had cost, well…it didn't matter.

* * *

_**September, 2184**_

_Nos Astra, Illium _

Liara stared at the photo for a moment. It was a picture of Shepard's team, in the wake of the victory against Saren and Sovereign. They had been helping with cleanup and rescue efforts when that reporter Emily Wong had convinced them to pose for a picture. The Presidium lay in ruins around them, but they stood victorious – Shepard, herself, Garrus, Tali, Joker, Kaidan; Chakwas and Adams and Pressly joined them along the end. They were all linked arm in arm, smiling happily, laughing and joking with one another.

She squeezed her eyes shut, chastising herself for falling victim to a moment of weakness. A moment of love, and loss. A moment of longing and sorrow for the incredible woman that had been, and the unbelievable woman that _could have been_. A moment of desire for a time when she had been a hero, when the line between right and wrong had been clear and bright, when life hadn't been a very dark shade of gray.

The feelings of elation, of hope, she had felt when she had successfully claimed Shepard and delivered her to the ones that claimed they could bring her back had long ago faded. With time and distance she recognized them for what they were – the foolish fantasies of a child. The simple fact was, no one came back from the dead.

Shepard was dead; Feron was dead. To think otherwise was to be a foolish child – and she was no longer a child.

In their place had come a cold, hollow emptiness. She filled that emptiness with the mission. For all the wealth and power that now surrounded her, the mission was the only thing she truly had; the only thing that mattered.

She was jerked out of her reverie by yet another beep from her terminal – likely another in an increasing number of persons wanting her services. "Nyxeris, could you catalogue and prioritize today's messages please?"

"Of course, Dr. T'Soni," came the reply from the entryway. She went back to what she had been doing before unaccountably pulling up the photo and getting lost in the past for a few moments, which was finalizing the job report for the head of Serrice Technologies. She read over it again, making a few minor revisions. Satisfied, she sent it along, then opened up the next report.

"Dr. T'Soni, I feel I should direct your attention to a message which seems most…lucrative…in nature."

She looked toward the open door and smiled. "Thank you, Nyxeris." The new assistant was thus far turning out to be most helpful. She opened the flagged message.

_Dr. T'Soni_

_I represent the highest levels of Binary Helix management. Recently our development lab on Illium was robbed of some highly valuable prototype medical technology for the regrowth of bones. We are willing to pay 150% of the estimated first-year profits from said technology in exchange for the identity of the thief and the means by which we can recover said technology. If you feel you can deliver this service, please respond with 24 hours._

_Regards,_

_Daniel Tim__ó__n, COO, Binary Helix_

Liara's eyes lit up, her mind already mulling over the rewards from such a job. She quickly hit 'Reply.'

_Mr. Tim__ó__n,_

_You will have the information within the week. Thank you for the opportunity to be of service._

_Sincerely,_

_Dr. Liara T'Soni_

_... ... ...  
_

_Lazarus Research Station_

Miranda departed the shuttle and strode quickly through the station to her office. On arriving, she briefly sat down at her terminal, quickly loaded the research data and specs into the system, then headed to the main lab.

Wilson jumped as the package thudded onto the table beside him. "Miranda! I didn't think you'd be back so soon – what is this?"

She paced slowly along the sealed incubator, inspecting the body lying within. The burnt and decaying skin had long since been removed; in its place was a bio-synthetic lattice overlaying, and slowly bonding with, the muscular and connective tissue. Soon, a cybernetic weave would be painted atop it, forming a base for new skin to be grown. But before they could do that…

"You said our bone repair tech wasn't sufficient to strengthen bones that had been deprived of blood and oxygen for this long; I found better."

He stared at the package. "How did you…?"

She sighed in annoyance and turned to face him. "Will it work, or not?"

He rapidly opened the package, scanning the module with his Omni-tool and studying the results for at least a minute before nodding slowly. "It will require some modification to interface properly with the knitters, but…it should get the job done. Better than I could have imagined, in fact."

"Then it doesn't matter how I got it. Get to work, Wilson." She turned heel and left the lab.

... ... ...

_Nos Astra, Illium_

From her new, far more refined office high above the trading floor, the lighting never changed. During the day, the office was lit by the natural light of the sun; at night, it was lit by the artificial light of the city.

The primary effect of this was that Liara rarely realized how late into the night she worked. Utterly unaware of the fact that it was two o'clock in the morning, she squinted at the terminal screen as the code fragments scrolled by…_there_. A fluctuation. A tiny segment of code that didn't match the syntax of Binary Helix's encryption. That was where the thief had broken through the security and gotten into the lab.

She copied the code out and ran a search comparing the syntax with all the known hacking techniques stored in her now quite considerable database. Three minutes later, the comparison yielded one result:

_Cerberus._

She frowned slightly and pulled up the file on the stolen tech. It was a highly secret experimental tool for stimulating hyper-growth in trabecular bones, restoring them if they were damaged and making them stronger than they would naturally be, all without affecting their porousness or flexibility. If the technology worked, it would be quite useful for militaries and mercenaries alike.

She reread the last part of the entry. "Further, this tool is capable of restarting cellular growth even when the bone tissue has been deprived of blood and oxygen for an extended period of time and is, effectively, dead."

She sank back in her chair. Could it be…no, it was surely just a coincidence. Cerberus likely intended to use the tech to increase the hardiness of their operatives, while simultaneously keeping it out of the hands of their adversaries. It was perfectly logical that they would execute such a theft for those reasons alone.

_Still._

A year into this business, she had come across very few coincidences. Data always had a purpose, a meaning. She turned back to the terminal and sent a quick, direct message.

... ... ...

_Lazarus Research Station_

Miranda rubbed her temples in a futile attempt to ward off the tension headache, and stared at the brain scans again.

They had almost lost her today. They had plugged in the neural interface, confident the inflammation in the brain tissue resulting from the placement of the L5x implant had subsided sufficiently to begin stimulating basic brain function; however, they had almost immediately been forced to disconnect it when electrical impulses began spiking wildly in the pre-frontal cortex, threatening to fry the surrounding neurons.

Something was wrong, and it was up to her to figure ou– her terminal beeped quietly, though the sound scraped across her eardrums.

She exhaled heavily through her nose in annoyance – but given the nature of her position in Cerberus, she had to open the message anyway. It contained a single line:

_Was it for Shepard?_

She quickly checked the header tracking record, groaning in disbelief. How the _hell_ did Liara T'Soni get this address? It was restricted to Cerberus Level 5 and above, dammit. Well…it seemed Dr. T'Soni was as good an information broker – and acquirer – as her growing reputation indicated.

She knew Liara was based on Illium; it didn't take a genius to deduce that she had likely been hired by Binary Helix to uncover the perpetrator of the theft of their prototype. _Wonderful._

She just wasn't in the mood to be polite. Okay, fine, she was pretty much _never_ in the mood to be polite – but right now she _really_ wasn't in the mood. She hit 'Reply.'

_Dr. T'Soni,_

_Of course it was for Shepard._

_Do you think my life is about anything else other than bringing your precious Commander back from the dead? _

She sent the message then turned back to the scans. The Binary Helix module was doing an impressive job of rebuilding the bone structure, for all the good it would do if she couldn't figure out what was wrong with Shepard's brain…

... ... ...

_Nos Astra, Illium_

Liara stared at the message, ignoring the not-so-subtle snarkiness of the tone.

Cerberus hadn't failed; not yet. She had long since given up…but it seemed they hadn't. That meant there was still a _chance_.

She let out a long breath and spun the chair around to stare out the windows. In nearly a year in this 'business,' she hadn't _once_ failed to deliver on a contract. Word that she had been unable to complete this job would make its way through the network. It could set her mission back by months. It would break her streak. _It would hurt her reputation_.

But this was Shepard. And though she knew all too well that Shepard hadn't loved her, it didn't matter…when it came to Shepard, there was simply no other choice. She would do anything.

She turned back to the terminal and opened a new message window.

_Mr. Tim__ó__n,_

_I regret to inform you that I have been unable to trace the source of the theft. The hacking software used is common to a number of mercenary organizations and black market dealers, and there is no way to narrow it down. You are of course welcome to employ others in an attempt to discover the source of the theft; however, I would advise you not to continue to waste resources on what will in my opinion be a futile endeavor._

_Apologies,_

_Dr. T'Soni_

She shut down the terminal, stood, and left the office in a daze, long-buried emotions churning her stomach and tugging at her heart.

... ... ...

"Fuck!"

Nyxeris' head turned towards Liara in surprise from her desk in the entryway, not because Liara had cursed – while not exactly _common_, it was also not exactly _rare_ – but because she had done so in Human. There was, of course, a reasonably-equivalent Asari phrase…but Liara hadn't used that; she had, quite literally, said 'fuck', and in a rather loud tone of voice.

"Doctor?"

Liara was staring out her windows, one arm resting across her stomach and the other at her chin, her shoulders tensed. She looked over her shoulder distractedly. "What? Oh, sorry…Nyxeris, I won't need you any more this evening; why don't you go home early today."

Despite the phrasing, Nyxeris knew it wasn't a suggestion. "Thank you, Dr. T'Soni. I'll see you in the morning then."

Once she had gone, Liara returned to staring out the windows. The momentary feeling of warm nostalgia at the recollection of how Shepard's regular and enthusiastic exclamation of that particular curse had indelibly burned it into her brain was quickly displaced by the reason for her utterance of it.

A lot of people around the galaxy – hundreds of thousands – claimed to be information brokers; but the number who were successful in any meaningful way, who made an actual impact on the flow of information, was far smaller – perhaps four thousand. Among those, a full two thousand could be considered niche, excelling in their specialized area of expertise but not wielding much influence beyond it. That left eighteen hundred, two thousand at most, serious, powerful players in the entirety of the galaxy.

It was a small club. Even if they didn't all know one another, they all knew _of_ one another. It had been through sheer force of will – and no small amount of talent and intelligence – that she had crashed her way into the elite club in the space of a year. Regardless, she was there now, and that meant that at any given time she knew who was doing what, where, and for how many credits.

Binary Helix had _not_ taken her suggestion and let the matter of the theft of their prototype drop. Worse, they had hired Richardson to succeed where she had 'failed.' Richardson was actually rather good at what he did; it was one reason why she had targeted him early on to _ease_ her way into the business – that and the fact that he was a notorious lech. While she was certain that Cerberus in general and Miranda Lawson in particular had some highly sophisticated, specialized, untraceable hacking software…their lock-breaking software was not it. It was good of course, far better than most; but not so terribly unique or clever.

Richardson would figure it out.

She sighed heavily, turning and going to the cabinet against the wall. She opened a bottle of _elasa_, filled a tumbler and wandered back to the wall of windows; glass in hand, she pondered her options.

Altering Binary Helix's logs of the theft so that they wouldn't point to Cerberus was likely a necessity no matter what – for if Richardson failed, they were unlikely to be deterred and would just hire someone else, possibly someone she couldn't get to. That alone was unlikely to solve the problem, however; much like her, Richardson would almost certainly have been given a local copy of the security logs.

But maybe she could alter _his_ copy too…

…of course, that probably meant she would have to sleep with him again.

As Shepard would say…f_uck._

_... ... ...  
_

The door opened to reveal Richardson, dressed only in lounge pants and an unbuttoned shirt. His eyes creased briefly before he smiled. "Liara…what a pleasant surprise. What brings you here at this late hour?"

She smiled, letting a touch of sadness reach her eyes. "Can I come in?"

"Of course." He opened the door fully and gestured her inside.

"Thank you…I'm sorry, I know it's late. I just…" She turned to look back at him. "I received a message tonight…my dearest friend from childhood was killed in a freak accident on Thessia." She exhaled heavily, trying to hold back tears. "I haven't seen her in years, but we always kept in touch, and with my mother gone, and I don't really have anyone here on Illium…I…I just didn't want to be alone." She bit her lower lip slightly. "And I thought of you."

He approached her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a hug. "Oh, my poor dear. I'm so glad you did."

She closed her eyes and buried her chin in his neck, her voice a whisper. "I just need someone to hold me…"

It was three hours later before he finally fell asleep, his breath falling into a slow, even rhythm. She gently lifted the comforter and slipped out of bed, picking his shirt up from the floor and pulling it over her shoulders as she tip-toed out of the room. She crept down the hall and into his office. He had been working when she had arrived and hadn't shut down his terminal, making her job easier.

She sifted through his files until she found the Binary Helix one. The work note read: "Looks like Cerberus – going to run a few more checks to confirm. Wrap up next week." Thank the goddess, she was just in time. She pulled up the security log and began searching for the relevant –

"What are you doing?"

She spun around to find him in the doorway, leaning against the frame in a not-at-all-relaxed manner. Her hand fumbled around behind her back for any key that would change the screen. "I couldn't sleep, and I thought I would check the extranet for – "

"You could have used your Omni-tool for that." He pushed her harshly but not violently out of the way, looked at the screen, then looked over at her in puzzlement. "The Binary Helix job? You already failed that one – and I have to say, I don't understand how, it wasn't that difficult. What, were you thinking you could get back in their good graces or something? Is that what this little 'poor me' act was about?"

She breathed out slowly. "No."

"Then what? Are you trying to sabotage me? Why? You already command a higher asking price than me…I'm not a threat to you. Believe me, I wish I was – but I'm not."

She paced slowly around the office for a moment, then turned and met his stare. "I need you to not complete that job."

His brow furrowed in consternation. "What?"

"Gerald, as a friend, I'm _asking_ you – don't tell Binary Helix that Cerberus executed the theft. Please_._"

He returned to the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest, a puzzled frowned on his face. "I don't get it, Liara. Cerberus is a terrorist organization, and a blatantly pro-human one at that. I know you've drifted over into the seedier side of the business from time to time, but I can't figure why in the world you would be trying to help Cerberus."

She rolled her eyes and glared at the ceiling. "I'm not…exactly. I know full well what Cerberus is about, and I don't condone it. But this isn't about them; this is about a friend, someone very dear to me – "

He groaned. "Another very dear friend? Come on, even I'm not _that_ gullible."

She dipped her chin slightly in acknowledgement, her voice even. "Of course you aren't. I _am_ telling the truth this time, though I can't fault you for not believing me. I'm afraid I can't explain any further – I can only ask you to do this one favor for me. I'll owe you – name your price."

His eyebrow rose speculatively. "Really? I can think of a few things…" His face fell. "But none of them are worth what this transaction is worth – in credits and in reputation. I'm sorry, Liara. I like you, I really do – not to mention that you're a goddess in the sack – and I wish I could help you out…but this job is too valuable. I can't throw it away; not this one."

She gazed at him intently, eyes seeming to pierce straight through him, and it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps he had never met the real Liara T'Soni. "I'm not going to be able to convince you to change your mind, am I?"

He shook his head. "No."

She nodded slowly, a calm, if somewhat wistful, expression on her face. "Then I'm sorry, too. Thank you for everything."

He was dead before he hit the back wall, even if he didn't know it yet, as her _throw_/_warp_ combo shredded his internal organs. Blood gushed out of his nostrils as he sank to the floor, a look of confusion lingering on his face until it went slack.

_No, _this_ must be the line, the line she hadn't known she could cross…or how easy it would be._ She sighed deeply as wisps of blue energy faded into nothingness around her. "I really am sorry…"

She turned and hurried to his terminal, copying its contents before wiping it clean. Richardson was a wealthy, influential man with many clients and nearly as many enemies; she was certain there was a long list of people who would have motive to kill him and steal his files – and she probably wouldn't even be on it. Even better, his files would provide her with a ready list of those enemies, should she find herself needing to frame one of them for his murder.

She spared his body one last glance, went and gathered her clothes, got dressed, and hurried out of the apartment.

... ... ...

"Dr. T'Soni!" The receptionist looked at her in surprise. "What can I do for you today?"

Liara gave the maiden her most friendly, innocent smile. "I need to see Mr. Timón about a…well, I'm afraid it's a rather personal matter…"

The receptionist frowned in consternation. "I'm terribly sorry, but he's in a Board meeting right now…it should last another half an hour or so. Would you like to wait?"

Liara nodded in understanding. "I'd be happy to…where is your restroom?"

A moment later she hurried down the hallway, quietly slipping into the stairwell and going down two flights before exiting into a plain, unadorned hall. It had been easy enough to obtain the floor plan for Binary Helix's offices from the Nos Astra Zoning and Planning Board archives. She checked the hall to make sure it was deserted, went to the third door, rapidly hacked the lock, and slipped inside the server room.

Familiar with their recordkeeping practices from this and previous jobs, it took her less than twenty seconds to find the logs from the night of the theft. She scrolled down to the Cerberus hack, deleted it, and replaced it with a series of code instructions that were mostly generic but bore a slight resemblance to software traceable to Jormangund Technology. Not enough of a match to definitively link Jormangund to the theft – just enough to arouse suspicion. A cutthroat corporation known for its willingness to aggressively adopt and integrate just about any tech it could get its hands on, legally or otherwise, it was a logical suspect. And with no presence on Illium, pursuing such a lead would take work.

Satisfied, she backed out of the system, exited the server room, re-locked the door behind her, and hurried back upstairs. She slowed her pace as she entered the main hallway, caught her breath, and walked into the lobby and approached the receptionist.

"I'm terribly sorry, but something has come up at the office and I need to get back. I'll have to see Mr. Timón another time." She smiled apologetically. "And I promise to make an appointment next time."

Outside, she leaned against the building façade, letting the always-bustling crowds pass her by. She had done everything she could to protect Cerberus, to give them time and room; it would have to be enough.

She sighed heavily, for a moment feeling the weight of her actions.

_Miranda, this had better have been worth it. You damn well better bring her back._

* * *

_**June, 2185**_

_Nos Astra, Illium _

Liara exited the taxi and hurried towards the newly-completed Tower One of Dantius Towers. The skeletal frame of Tower Two rose beside it, casting long shadows across her path. She wasn't thrilled about gracing Nassana with her presence…but the grand opening gala would be a hotbed of movers and shakers, drawn in by the credits Nassana was throwing around Nos Astra, and she simply couldn't afford to miss it.

From ground level, the lights that fueled Nos Astra's constant activity were not nearly so bright. She quickened her pace along the darkened street as she traversed the Tower Two construction –

– and was suddenly thrown back against a half-built wall, a gun shoved against her throat.

She flared, the swirling blue light revealing a Batarian pressed up against her. "You'll be dead before you can twitch, Doctor."

Okay, so it wasn't a random robbery attempt; he was here for her. It had been bound to happen eventually, as her net tightened closer and closer around the Shadow Broker's operatives, and ultimately around the Shadow Broker himself.

She pulled the flare back. "What do you want?"

"You're hunting The Observer; the Shadow Broker isn't happy about that. He's tolerated your ineffectual flailing about up until now because it wasn't worth it to kill you – but now you're becoming a nuisance."

Her eyes pierced into him, a malevolent smile curling at her lips. "Is that so? I wasn't certain The Observer even existed, so thank you for confirming it for me."

He laughed. "For all the good that'll do – " Blood spurted out of his mouth as her stiletto slid in between his ribs, sliced through his heart and penetrated his lungs. The gun fell uselessly to the ground as his fingers spasmed.

She lowered him gently down against the wall until he settled to the ground, then scanned his Omni-tool and captured everything contained therein. With a little luck it would contain data on The Observer and other Shadow Broker operatives.

She glanced around quickly as she stood, hurrying out of the construction and back onto the street. She straightened her shoulders and deliberately slowed her pace as she blended in with the crowd entering Tower One, wiping away a tiny spec of Batarian blood from her dress as she walked through the door.

... ... ...

In her apartment, she absently sipped at her _tapola_, her eyes scanning over the screen as the new information acquired from the would-be assassin was added to the matrix. She now had enough to positively identify two Shadow Broker agents that frequented Illium; she inserted a passive trace for each of them in the Nos Astra docking system. The next time they arrived, she would be alerted and could deal with them.

The interconnections she had pieced together from dozens of sources formed a spider-web like pattern on the screen; she zoomed in on the various data points in turn, studying them for the hundredth time. She was close to discovering the identity of The Observer, the most powerful Shadow Broker agent in the Crescent Nebula. All she needed was a few more holes filled in –

She blinked as her terminal beeped, breaking her concentration. She frowned at the screen. _Sender: Unknown._ Shrugging slightly, she opened it anyway.

_Dr. T'Soni,_

_Given the assistance you provided to us two years ago, and again last year, I thought it only fair that I let you know – the project is moving along quite well. Though we encountered some difficulties, we are now very optimistic about its chances of success._

_This is a one-time courtesy; do not expect any further correspondence on this matter._

_Regards,_

_Illusive Man_

She sucked in a breath and fell back in her chair, overwhelmed by the emotions suddenly coursing through her. A tear rolled slowly down her cheek as she closed her eyes.

_Was it truly possible that Shepard was going to live again?_ The momentary hope triggered by the Binary Helix theft had faded to nothing as day after day, month after month had passed with no word – but now it came rushing back in a torrent.

Her heart soared, higher than she could have thought possible…followed by a gnawing ache that settled in her gut as she wondered if Shepard would ever forgive her for what she had done. Dammit, she had _known_ how Shepard felt about Cerberus. Worse than that, she knew what Cerberus was capable of, having come across evidence of more than one insidious project of theirs in the last two years.

If she had known then what she knew now…she shook her head ruefully. She would have done the same thing. Because it was a chance, however unlikely…a chance that now appeared to have _worked_.

Opening her eyes and straightening up at her desk, she wiped away stray tears. She had never told anyone what she had done, if only because the odds of Cerberus succeeding were so impossibly low as to be virtually non-existent.

But now…surely she should let someone know. That would be the proper thing to do. _Right? _

She briefly ran through the possibilities. Councilor Anderson? Admiral Hackett? Garrus? Chakwas? _Kaidan?_

_No. _ It was too dangerous. Telling anyone would present a risk to her and the completion of her mission. She had made a deal with wanted terrorists and secretly handed them an Alliance and Council hero, after all. But more importantly, it would endanger Shepard.

They would go after Cerberus. They would try to find the Lab, try to find Shepard. And even if they meant well, which she had no doubt they would…the consequence would be to kill Shepard just when she was about to live again.

She couldn't let that happen, no matter what. She had protected Shepard this long; she would see it through to the end.

Besides…

The slightest smile curled on her lips. _If it _was_ possible, if Shepard _did_ come back…for at least a little while, she wanted to be the only one that knew._

* * *

_**December, 2185**_

_Nos Astra, Illium_

The alert flashed across her terminal, jerking her attention away from the data on the screen. Frustrated at her recent lack of progress, she had written an algorithm for a deep-matrix search on a number of variables tied to The Observer, the Shadow Broker's communication system…and Feron. The search had resulted in a number of records, but thus far she couldn't piece them together into a logical pattern. And there had been nothing on Feron. Zero.

But suddenly, none of that mattered. She stared at the message scrolling across the top of her terminal:

_Vessel registered as Normandy SR-2, flag: Cerberus, has docked at Nos Astra Spaceport, Docking Bay A-3._

The first reports, scattered and second-hand, of Shepard being seen alive had begun coming to her attention well over a month ago; before long they had become definitive enough for there to be no doubt.

They had done it. _She was alive. _

She was also working for Cerberus, though apparently in the noble cause of stopping the increasing attacks on human colonies in the Terminus Systems. Her ship was highly advanced and almost impossible to track, so Liara had been unable to follow Shepard's movements…though even if she had been able to, she wasn't sure what action she would have taken. She had also known there was no particular reason for Shepard to come to Illium; she would have no way to know that Liara was there and no other need of the place, except perhaps for shopping.

Still, Liara had put an alert in the docking system; if the Normandy should ever come here, she would know immediately. Then she had gone about her life, trying to concentrate on the mission still ahead of her and trying not to think about how everything could change now…not realizing that everything had _already_ changed, had changed the moment she had known Shepard was alive.

"Nyxeris, get me Careena T'Lorn immediately." A moment later she was on the comm with the Docking Officer. "Careena, I'd like you meet the disembarking members of the Normandy crew personally; they should be led by a Human woman, Commander Graceyn Shepard…yes, _that_ Commander Shepard…well obviously she's _not_ dead. Please inform her that I have paid all docking fees and other charges for the Normandy, and let her know the location of my office, should she wish to come by…that sounds fine. Thank you."

She cut the link and began pacing rapidly in a haphazard figure-eight pattern around her office. Now that Shepard was _here_, she had no idea what to do – should she act surprised, or unimpressed? Tell her the truth, tell her what she had done? Tell her about Feron, about the mission? About the people she had killed, the choices she had made in pursuit of that mission? Or just be mysterious and close-lipped?

Goddess, she was past all this, had grown beyond silly, distracting emotions. She was powerful, wealthy, even _dangerous_, dammit, not a bashful, bookish child. She wasn't Shepard's subordinate or lackey any longer; if anything, she was her equal.

And it was suddenly very, very important that Shepard know all those things.

She activated the vidcomm and contacted one of her most recalcitrant, difficult clients. Mr. Janeway had spent the last two weeks coming up with a dozen excuses for why her contract wasn't fulfilled, for why he didn't need to pay her. As the glass of the center window darkened and his image materialized, she heard the faint echo of Shepard's voice outside greeting Nyxeris. She sucked in a deep breath, slowing her racing heart, and turned to glare at the projection.

"Mr. Janeway, my patience is at an end. I expect our agreed-upon price to be transferred to my account within the hour."

The man sputtered. "But Dr. T'Soni, I'm still reviewing your findings, and I'm not sure – "

"Have you faced an Asari Commando unit before? Few Humans have." She tilted her head idly to the side as the door behind her opened. "I'll make it simple – either you pay me, or I flay you alive…with my _mind_."

She cut the link, turned around…and everything she had vowed to do and be vanished with the sight of the smiling face and sparkling eyes of the woman who had been dead but was now very, _very_ much alive…

She stepped forward, trying not to run, and reached out as welcoming arms encircled her. _"Shepard…"_


	3. Redemption

**If It Meant Living: Tales**

"**Redemption"**

* * *

_**February, 2186: Twelve Days after Destruction of Collector Base / Five Days after Destruction of Alpha Relay**_

* * *

_Normandy SR-2, Nos Astra Docking Bay A-5, Illium: __Tasale System, Crescent Nebula_

Shepard tossed the bottle of Turian liquor in the direction of the couch as the door to her quarters closed behind her.

Garrus reached up and caught it as it sailed overhead. He kicked a foot up on the table, opening the bottle as Shepard reached into the cabinet against the wall and pulled out a bottle of pure clear liquid.

His eyes narrowed slightly. "That's not one of your usual drinks."

"Nope. This, my friend, is _vodka_." She cracked open the cap then grabbed a tumbler.

Garrus shrugged mildly. "Hmm. What's it go with?"

"Ice." She grabbed a handful of cubes, dropping them into the tumbler then drowning them with the clear liquor. She plopped down next to him on the couch, glass extended. "To the end of the world."

He huffed a breath and gave her a wry look but accepted the toast. "To the end of the world." Glass clinked against glass, and together they knocked back a long sip.

He relaxed into the couch. "So everyone else is off the ship?"

She nodded slowly, lips not quite leaving the rim of the glass. "Yep. Chakwas is staying, and Joker – once he was assured through official channels that he was _not_ going to be placed under arrest – but otherwise, it's just you and me. Kasumi and Thane were the last to leave; I'm afraid I had to not-so-gently shove them out the airlock and onto the dock."

"They're worried about you…" his mandibles fluttered slightly "…so am I."

She rolled her eyes at him, a smirk hovering on her lips as a foot joined his atop the table. "I'll be fine."

He shook his head…_damn but this woman was hard-headed_. The whiplash of her going from victorious hero to war criminal in the span of several hours was enough to give _him_ a neck ache; he could only imagine what it must be like for her. But she refused to show weakness, refused to falter, even to him. Though he supposed in its own way, the simple fact that she had asked him to stay – had wanted, maybe even needed, to not be alone this last evening – _was_ an act of weakness. One that she had chosen to let him see.

He was more than happy to oblige her; it was, quite literally, the least he could do.

"You _could_ run, you know. Speaking from experience, it's a totally viable option. And when you inevitably find yourself alone and under fire from a hundred or so mercs, just comm me; I'll come rescue you."

She punched his arm lightly, giving him a slight smile. But it didn't quite reach her eyes, which were dark and turbulent and lacking their usual shine. "It's tempting. But I run, and I'm definitely helpless to respond when the Reapers hit. I surrender now, and I figure I have at least a very, _very_ small chance of being in a position to fight when the time comes."

She dropped her head back against the cushion and stared at the ceiling. "I'll scream and shout and bang on the walls of my cell and maybe, eventually, someone will listen…"

He watched her thoughtfully, again wishing he knew some way to help her…beyond getting sloshed with her on her last night of freedom, that is. She'd risked her life time and again for them all, had _given_ her life for them all, bore such a heavy weight and did so willingly – and they were going to lock her up for it. It was a goddamn travesty. _And, _the dark, rebellious part of his mind whispered,_ exactly the kind of fucked-up, bone-headed move I've always expected from the bureaucracy._

"Hackett's already listening; Anderson's already listening. They'll be getting ready," he merely replied lamely.

She nodded in silent acknowledgment. Then she knocked the glass back and emptied it, got up and refilled it, kicked her boots and socks off and into the corner, then rejoined him, crossing her bare ankles atop the table and sinking back into the couch.

"You know, I've enjoyed entertaining you and all, but I'm afraid this party simply _must_ come to an end. Anderson will be here in the morning, so you are going to _have_ to get your ass off the ship by 0-600."

He chuckled, brow twitching up in mild challenge. "What if I'm too hung over from this little bender and oversleep?"

"EDI?"

"Yes, Shepard?"

"Could you make sure that Mr. Vakarian is awoken tomorrow morning at 0-500 by a rousing rendition of 'La Marseillaise' at full volume?"

"Of course, Shepard."

She grinned wickedly at him. "See? Problem solved."

He took a long sip of his drink, relishing the smooth burn as the fiery liquid spread through his chest. "Excellent…"

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the slowly rippling water of the empty-of-fish but still brightly-lit fish tank as they nursed their drinks…or perhaps "briskly imbibed" would be a better descriptor. Eventually, she nudged a talon with her toe. "So where are you going to go?"

He exhaled slowly, catching his warped, distorted reflection in the blue-hued glass. He thought it might have a larger meaning.

Or maybe he was just drunk…yeah, that was probably it.

He huffed a somewhat sloppy laugh, hardly believing the words even as he uttered them…

"I'm going home."

* * *

_One Week Later – Cipritine, Palaven: Trebia System, Apien Crest_

Garrus stepped off the transport shuttle and into the capital's busy spaceport, bag in hand. He glanced around as he followed the sea of people into the atrium, keeping a sharp eye out for…_there_. A familiar hand waved in the distance; he shifted his course in its direction.

A moment later he was met by a warm embrace. "Garrus, it's been _forever_!"

He smiled in spite of himself, returning the hug. "It's good to see you too, sis."

Solana Vakarian pulled back slightly, mandibles twitching as her head tilted to the side, a curious frown marring her features. "What happened to your face?"

He smirked mildly. "I caught a stray rocket, what can I say?"

She fell in beside him as they walked towards the exit. "They have this new invention called 'medicine,' you know. Doctors use it, and with it they can _fix_ things like that."

He shrugged as they stepped outside and into the early-afternoon sunlight, a blast of Palaven's omnipresent heat washing over him. "I kinda like it. It gives me character."

"Like you didn't have enough of that already…come on, the vehicle's this way." She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, then turned to the left and motioned him along.

He threw his bag in the back, then settled into the passenger seat as she lifted off and banked right, headed towards their paren– their _father's_ house on the outskirts of the capital. He hadn't been back home since his mother's funeral; he still, and probably always would, think of it as _their _home.

She glanced over at him once their course leveled off. "So I heard you saved the galaxy again."

He chuckled lightly. "Something like that; it wasn't as glamorous as it sounds. But we can talk about that later – what about you? How's work?"

A corner of her mouth turned up slightly. "We're designing a new water purification plant to replace that aging dam facility up north. You know the motto: 'Adapt, Improve.' So we are."

"Any potential suitors?"

"_Suitors_, Garrus, really? I am a grown woman and the Hierarchy's Regional Public Works Director – I do not get _suitors_, thank you very much. But to answer the question…maybe. We'll see."

He nodded slowly, impressed. "Do I get to meet him?"

Her head shook vehemently. "No. Absolutely not. It's _far_ too soon for you to bring your terror down upon him."

"What about Dad's terror?"

She sighed heavily. "It could be that Dad isn't quite so terror-bringing anymore, Garrus."

He leaned against the door frame so he could look at her more directly. "What do you mean?"

"Since Mom died he's been…gentler. Sadder, quieter, more subdued. But also, gentler."

"Huh. I'll believe _that_ when I see it…"

Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth. "Give him a chance, Garrus…_please_. When word hit the extranet that your ship had come back through the Omega 4 Relay, he was _so_ damn happy. He's proud of you…even if he can't admit it."

He stared out the window at the familiar landscape of craggy hills and moss-tinted steppes framed by a silver-gold sky. He reminded himself that when it had _mattered_, when he had been sure his life was coming to an end, he had reached out for his father…and his father had been there for him. For those few moments on Omega, low on thermal clips and faith, his father's voice had come over the comm, and all the distrust and bad blood and baggage of the past hadn't mattered, to either of them.

The truth was, if that conversation hadn't happened, he probably never would have come back here. He would have come to Palaven, because he had a larger mission…but he might not have come _home_.

He looked back over at his sister and forced a smile. "I'll try."

... ... ...

Garrus stood in the center of the living area, bag still in hand, and nodded curtly. "Dad."

Didacus Vakarian rose from the desk in the corner where he had been reading and returned the nod. "Son."

They stared at each other for a moment, neither flinching…then his father smiled the_ slightest _bit, approached him and clasped his shoulder formally. "It's good to have you home."

He cleared his throat, unsure how to react to what for his father was a gushing of emotion. Finally he dipped his chin slightly. "Thank you. I'm going to, um, get unpacked…"

His father turned back towards the desk. "That's fine. Dinner will be ready in about an hour; we can talk then."

He went upstairs and stepped into his old bedroom, then stopped – assaulted not so much by a flood of memories as a flood of _feelings_. The angst of an shy, nervous child, uncertain of what he wanted to do with his life but certain that whatever it was, it would never be enough. The warmth of a loving, affectionate mother, and the cold of a harsh, demanding father…

He shook his head roughly and sat his bag on the bed. He was no longer that child; hadn't been for a very long time. He had done heroic things and terrible things…though even the terrible things had been done for what he had thought were the right reasons. In the last few months, serving on the Normandy, he had come to terms with his mistakes; made peace with his choices, both good and bad. Eventually he had found an inner strength that, he hoped, would see him through what was to come. He nodded to himself and began to unpack.

... ... ...

Dinner passed pleasantly enough, the conversation filled mostly with anecdotes of daily life, the state of politics on Palaven, and the particulars of Solana's work. After the plates had been cleared, they retired to the back porch.

The sun setting over the sloping fields provided a peaceful backdrop…which was promptly shattered when his father turned to him.

"So this Spectre of yours blew up a Mass Relay? I know you've made some…questionable decisions…in the past, but I didn't think you'd be hanging out with a mass murderer."

He whirled around, annoyed with himself for thinking things could _ever_ be different. "Shepard's the only reason I'm alive today, so you'd do well to thank her instead of _insult_ her."

Didacus snorted. "You know how I feel about Spectres – lawless thugs; loose cannons. She just proves I was right all along."

His teeth ground together as his jaw clenched, angry retorts racing through his mind and heading for his mouth…then he stopped himself. _He wasn't that child any longer._ He took a long, deep breath, and made sure his voice was calm and even. "She did what she had to do to buy us all time."

His father looked at him strangely, perhaps having expected the flailing outburst that usually occurred at about this point in their conversations. "I cannot imagine a scenario in which destroying an entire star system is justified."

"I can." He sat down on the bench, his elbows dropping to his knees as he looked over at his father. "Dad, I'd like to tell you a story. I ask only that you listen with an open mind through to the end of it, after which I'll answer whatever questions you have…then we can decide where to go from there."

His father stared at him a moment, unknowable thoughts flitting across his eyes…then sat down across from him. "I'm listening."

His head tilted slightly in acknowledgment. "Three years ago I was assigned the task of investigating charges of treason against Saren Arterius. I – "

"I know full well about your investigation, son, _and_ what happened – "

"Dad, in order to understand, you have to hear the _whole_ story – from the beginning."

His father exhaled, then slowly nodded. "Then we're going to need some beverages. Solana, would you mind brewing us some _megdi_?" He looked back at Garrus. "Please, continue."

"Right. So I was going after Saren – but I wasn't the only one…"

Three hours later the carafe of _megdi_ had grown cold; the night sky shone with starlight; Garrus' voice had become hoarse and tired.

Didacus ran his talons along a mandible. "And you've _seen_ Reapers?"

Garrus nodded emphatically. "Yes, two of them – their holographic projections anyway. I talked to Sovereign – well, talked _at_ it. I saw Harbinger's projection at Project Base before we rescued Shepard. _Everyone_ saw Sovereign at the Citadel. It wasn't a Heretic creation, Dad; they _worshipped_ it."

"But Heretics are just Geth, right?"

"Some of them, those that split. But _all_ the Geth believe the Reapers exist. Cerberus believes the Reapers exist. The Shadow Broker believes the Reapers exist. Alliance Admirals believe the Reapers exist. The Collectors believed the Reapers exist, were controlled by them – "

"And the Collectors are _Protheans_…?"

Garrus smiled slightly in spite of himself; he knew it must be a lot to take in. "They were, before the Reapers altered them. Dad, I've seen Reaper artifacts – probably dozens by now. I've talked to people, spread all across the galaxy, that were indoctrinated to do the Reapers' bidding…had to kill most of them."

His father huffed a breath, looking over at him with what seemed like a measure of respect. "You've had a busy couple of years, son."

He leaned forward intently. "I have. And they have shown me one thing above all – the Reapers are real, and they are coming _now_, with one singular purpose: to kill us all. We _have_ to get ready."

His father reached over to the table and took a sip of _megdi_, only then realizing it had gone cold; he set the cup back down. "So if Commander Shepard hadn't destroyed the Alpha Relay, the Reapers would already be here and attacking."

It didn't slip past Garrus that the statement seemed to assume the existence of the Reapers, or that it was a statement and not a question, _or_ that his father no longer referred to Shepard as "your Spectre"; he breathed an internal sigh of relief. "That's right. They were literally within an hour of having access to the entire galaxy."

Didacus stood up and began pacing. "We'll want to begin increasing our defenses immediately, move critical resources off-world. I'll comm Fedorian in the morning and set up a meeting. He'll need your advice and input." He glanced over. "When you talk to him, leave out the part about Omega, it'll hurt your credibility; Fedorian doesn't care much for outlaws, and it isn't relevant to the issue of the Reapers. Highlight the Collector data, it's scientific and objective. You should – "

Garrus grinned, shaking his head. "So you believe me then?"

"Of course I believe you. Garrus, I've never doubted your intelligence, just your judgment. But perhaps I was wrong about that…occasionally. Regardless, you've presented a damn good case. I'll do whatever I can."

... ... ...

Aeneas Fedorian walked to his window and stared out at the gleaming plaza below as the door shut behind Garrus. An elbow rested on the arm crossing his chest, talons drumming a pattern on his cheek. "I assume you believe him, or you wouldn't have brought him here."

Didacus paced slowly around the Primarch's office. "I do. My son has made some mistakes in his life, but he's a shrewd, sharp man, and not given to flights of fancy; if anything, he's a cynic. Besides – there's a lot of evidence, and a lot of other people out there who back him up."

"I know." Fedorian turned from the window and met his old friend's gaze. "I had a holo-conference last week with Alliance Admirals Hackett and Anderson, the former Councilor. They said essentially the same thing Garrus just did, and advised that I begin preparations. They agreed to a princely sum in order to license the Thanix Cannon specifications, and suggested that we get them installed on any ships that didn't already have them as soon as possible."

Didacus exhaled heavily. "This is really going to happen, isn't it?"

"That remains to be seen. I'm still not entirely convinced the Reapers aren't a boogeyman…but this isn't the kind of thing you want to be on the wrong side of." He flicked on his terminal and started typing. "I'll loan him some men from the Strategic and Intelligence Divisions; we'll call it a task force, give it some legitimacy. They can make recommendations on where to bolster our defenses, other steps we should take." His left mandible fluttered. "We might even take some of them."

"Aeneas, don't you think we should – "

Fedorian looked up from the screen and smiled. "Give it some time, Didacus. Let's take a little while to wrap our heads around the idea of thousands of enormous, billions-of-years old, AI starships showing up out of nowhere to wipe out all sentient life. See how we feel about it in a month or two."

Didacus nodded respectfully. The man may be his friend, but he was also the Primarch. "Of course. I'll let him know. Thank you for your support."

* * *

_Two months later_

"An orbital satellite network of Thanix Cannons around the entire planet? I'm sure the Defense Ministry will be jumping with glee at the thought of spending thirty billion credits on _that_…"

Garrus sighed, elbows dropping to the conference table as he leaned forward. "Orinia, is your only purpose on this task force to _shit_ on every idea I have? Because I can't think of anything _else_ you've contributed since you got here."

The analyst straightened up in his chair, visibly bristling as his mandibles flared. "You'll do well to watch your tone, Vakarian. My family is – "

Garrus flung a hand in Orinia's general direction. "I don't _care_ that your mother is the Citadel Ambassador. I wouldn't care if your great-great-great-grandfather was head of the fucking Valluvian Order. _You're_ here because Primarch Fedorian thinks you have something of value to offer. Please demonstrate it, and soon."

Orinia's retort was cut off as an aide burst in the room. "The Intelligence Minister has been assassinated!"

Everyone started talking at once. Two members of the team quickly stood up and hurried out, rightly presuming that their presence would be required at their primary jobs.

Garrus slammed his hand down on the table. "Everyone, quiet!" He turned to the aide. "Is there footage of the attack?" The aide nodded quickly. "Could you pipe it in here please?"

A moment later a vid from a security cam appeared on the main screen at the end of the room. It showed the rotunda of the Defense Ministry building – which was only two streets over from their location. A man recognizable as the Intelligence Minister stood in the top left corner of the picture, talking with another man and a woman.

After a moment a man walked in, stopped in the center of the rotunda, and began shouting. Some of it was garbled, but Garrus could make out: "The day of The Return is upon us! Our salvation is through destruction – you cannot stop it! Our age is ending – but I will receive their blessings!" The man quickly pulled out a heavy pistol and shot the Minister in the head; several seconds later he was gunned down by security officers.

Garrus looked over at the aide. "Do they know who the shooter was?"

She nodded. "The news is reporting that his name was Polonus Nazurik; he was a high-level staffer in the Intelligence Division."

Garrus turned back and stared at the frozen image of the assassin lying in a pool of blood. "I need to see Primarch Fedorian as soon as possible. He'll want to know he has indoctrinated Reaper agents inside the government."

... ... ...

Garrus' head dipped respectfully. "Primarch, thank you for making the time to see me."

Fedorian gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat. I'm sorry it took several days to squeeze this meeting in; I have, as you can imagine, been rather occupied."

"Of course, sir. It's a difficult time." He raised his head to meet the Primarch's gaze. "And I'm afraid I'm here to tell you that it's worse than you realize."

Fedorian chuckled ruefully. "You _have_ been quite the bearer of bad news since your return to Palaven, Mr. Vakarian."

Garrus raised a palm in protest. "Please, just Garrus. My father is Mr. Vakarian…" he cringed slightly "…though not to you, I suppose."

"Indeed." Fedorian clasped his hands together on his desk and leaned forward. "So. What is the nature of this bad news?"

"Sir, you have indoctrinated Reaper agents inside the government – possibly a lot of them. I'm very concerned that the assassination this week was just the beginning."

"You're referring to the nonsense Nazurik was shouting before he shot the Minister, of course. Based on the information you've previously provided, I would agree that he certainly seemed to be 'indoctrinated,' as you call it. But I haven't seen any evidence that would indicate he wasn't an isolated case…"

Garrus nodded in understanding. "While there's a lot we still don't know, there are a couple of things we _have_ learned about indoctrination. First, it can occur on a sliding timescale – it can be slow, it can be fast, or it can be anywhere in between. How fast it occurs seems to depend on both the intent of the Reaper – or Reaper artifact, apparently…we honestly don't yet understand how much sentience a stand-alone artifact _has_, or even whether it's truly stand-alone at all – and second, proximity to the indoctrinating influence."

He cleared his throat. "I think it's clear from the vid that Nazurik was fully indoctrinated. Certifiably crazy. Even rapid indoctrination, to that level, takes weeks at a minimum. But once you're that indoctrinated, you're that way all the time; you can't hide it, because you have, quite literally, lost your mind. I did some checking – Nazurik hasn't left Palaven in eight years. During those eight years, he received three promotions and multiple stellar performance reviews. There's no way he was that crazy for the last eight years."

He made sure Fedorian's gaze was meeting his. "Sir, that can mean only one thing – there is an active Reaper artifact on Palaven; probably in or near to Cipritine. And unless it's in Nazurik's basement, I'd stake my life that he's not the only one who's been indoctrinated by it."

Fedorian's chin dropped, his eyes focusing on some spot on his desk or, rather more likely, nothing at all. He was silent for a full twenty seconds – a remarkable length of time for a politician.

Finally he looked up, a grim expression on his face. But his voice was firm and resolved.

"What do you need?"

* * *

_Three weeks later_

Garrus hurried into the hastily-constructed surveillance room, having run late with General Victus. While they weren't getting an orbital network of Thanix Cannons – not yet anyway – they _were_ getting installation of the Cannons on not just every cruiser, but every frigate in the Navy. In addition, crucial surveillance and communications backup systems were being moved to Menae, and to a lesser extent Nanus, and construction would soon begin on military outposts on the moons.

As welcome news as that was, for the moment he had more pressing concerns. "How's the review coming?"

Litha Palamin didn't look away from the bank of screens. "We've tracked him heading southeast twelve out of the last thirty days before the day of the attack. We've requested pulls from the cameras in the nine southeast quadrants; they should be here later this evening."

He patted her on the shoulder. "Trenis is going to relieve you overnight, right?"

She shrugged. "He's coming in in about an hour; whether I leave or not…we'll see."

He couldn't help but chuckle a bit; she reminded him more than a little of a younger, more idealistic version of himself. "It's a marathon, not a sprint, Litha. Get your sleep."

But as he walked over to a terminal and sat down, he couldn't help but think, _it may be a marathon today but it will surely be a sprint tomorrow or the next day or the day after. The Reapers are coming, and they are coming soon. And Shepard is locked up in a cell. And try as I might I'm not her. I can't save them all._

But maybe he could save some of them. He willed himself to focus on the screen in front of him, and began reviewing surveillance footage.

Palaven wasn't a police state – at least, not in the way Humans thought of such things. He knew that, probably more than any species he had encountered, Humans valued their individual rights, their privacy. It wasn't that Turians didn't value such things – gods knew he had been desperately glad for his dark, silent, private space on more than one occasion. It was more that Turians knew – believed – that their public persona _mattered_. They didn't mind the heavy public scrutiny, because they knew it was important – to themselves, and to society. Privacy could still be found in the dark of the night; and if privacy were needed elsewhere, well, it probably shouldn't be private…

He laughed to himself. Shepard would positively _skewer _him for having such a thought, even if it _was_ just an expression of what most turians thought and not necessarily his personal opinion. Shepard valued the individual above all. The trick was, she valued _each_ individual – whatever their background, whatever their species. She seemed to believe that each person wrote their own fate, was capable of anything or nothing and everything in between. It didn't seem to matter what species they came from, or whether that species was ten thousand years more or less advanced than Humanity; she seemed to believe that the soul was the same – or at least had the same capacity – in every sentient individual.

She was probably right, of course – as she was with most things. Personally, he didn't think that most turians felt they were giving something up in their acquiescence to a rather more public life. And while cultural rubrics swayed the middle towards the norm, those that fell _outside_ the norm – of which he was surely an example – still thrived or failed on their own merits.

He thought perhaps he had thrived. Damn but it had been hard – and not because of any turian cultural norm or his rebellion against such. It had been hard because it was _supposed_ to be hard, and one only came out the other side if one was worthy of doing so. It was true of Shepard, it was true of people like Liara and Anderson and Victus. And maybe, just maybe, it was true of him.

He blinked, his attention suddenly drawn away from his self-aggrandizing reverie and to the screen in front of him. He watched another twelve seconds, rewound, then watched again, just to be sure. Then he pulled up another vid, then another. Finally he pushed the chair back and swung around.

"I've got something."

"Of _course_ you do. I sit here watching vids for thirty-eight hours; you sit down for ten minutes and get something. Story of my life." Litha leaned far back in her chair and glared at him, but couldn't entirely keep the twinkle out of her eye. He grinned sympathetically at her. "You're a damn good analyst, Litha. That won't go unrewarded."

Her mandibles fluttered exaggeratedly. "Excellent. What you got, _sir_?"

He nodded, back to business. "Twenty-third quadrant. Nazurik goes into a building that, so far as I can find, has no discernable purpose. Better yet, he goes there again on the 23rd…the 27th…and the 4th of this month. I've put an inquiry on the location; we'll know in nine hours whether he could possibly have any reason for being there."

She nodded in appreciation. "Nice work, sir."

"Luck of the draw, Lieutenant. The funny thing about luck is, it goes where it will; but talent always rises. Now we can't do anything until tomorrow. _Get some sleep_."

She raised her hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. I'll see you in the morning, sir."

He smiled at the small victory, watching her as she walked out, then turned back to the monitor. It was going to be a long night…

* * *

_One month later_

Garrus stared down the scope until the crest of the man came into focus. Satisfied that he had the shot, he hit his comm with a free finger. "We're sure about this guy?"

The artifact had been found in a nondescript building in a light industrial area on the outskirts of Cipritine. The building wouldn't have been built _around_ it, of course; it would have been brought there deliberately. When and by whom, they would probably never know; the building had been constructed ten years ago, housed a small packaging company that had gone under, and sat abandoned ever since.

Review of recorded surveillance footage from the area had shown a number of individuals visiting the building over the last three months; but since that building had no apparent importance, the cameras hadn't focused on it, and the quality wasn't high enough for them to identity the visitors. Unable to risk live surveillance due to the indoctrination risk, they had set up new cameras directed at the building entrance…then they had waited.

After a month they had identified nineteen separate visitors to the building – and presumably, to the artifact. The man in his scope was number thirteen on the list.

"He visited the site nearly as often as Nazurik. He's indoctrinated; no doubt."

Garrus twitched. "What does 'nearly as often' mean?"

There was a silence of several seconds. "Um, 68.7% as often…sir."

He cringed…then lowered his rifle, leaning against the ledge of his rooftop vantage point. "That's not enough, not to take him out. Collar him and bring him in for questioning."

"Yes, sir," came a chorus of replies. He watched as a team moved in, guns drawn but fingers off the triggers. The man raised his hands in apparent surrender, but then quickly reached in his pocket and yanked out a pistol, raising it to his temple. The soldiers did the smart thing and knee-capped him before he could pull the trigger.

Face-first on the ground, the man writhed in agony as the team approached him, guns still drawn…then suddenly he just _stopped_. After a second dark blue blood seeped out from beneath him, mixing with the dirt-and-gravel-covered ground.

Garrus tossed his visor to the rooftop in frustration. The man had of course fallen on his pistol; even through the pain, the indoctrination had won out and forced him to shoot himself, probably in the heart, rather than be captured. He rubbed a mandible wearily. At least they had saved some as-yet-undetermined government official from an assassination attempt or some facility from an attack. Absent their intervention, quite likely a successful one, he reminded himself. He closed his eyes.

_He threw his arms into the air in disgust. "So he's dead anyway. That's great, but what was the point of all this then?"_

_Shepard stood over Dr. Saleon's body, the question hanging in the air. Finally she __looked over at him, her lavender eyes seeming to pierce straight through him_. _"You can't predict how people will act, Garrus – but you _can_ control how you respond. In the end, that's what really matters."_

Shepard would be proud of him, he thought. Presumption of innocence applied, restraint exercised, target neutralized, future victims saved.

He dropped his head back against the ledge. It would really help matters if it _felt_ like a victory.

After an appropriate period of self-pity, he hit his comm. "What's his status?"

"He's dead, sir."

"Understood."

* * *

_Five weeks later_

Garrus gazed across the conference table. His eyes passed across faces belonging to men whose remaining doubts had by now been erased – by the trickle of information coming from certain members of the Systems Alliance; by the comparative flood of formerly intelligent and rational, and now fully indoctrinated and thus insane, men and women here on Palaven; by the profoundly disturbing sight of the Reaper artifact.

They had each been allowed to visit the artifact, once and only once. They had each gazed upon its bright white orb encased in its curved cage of heretofore unknown materials, watching as it pulsed. Darkly. Malevolently. _Patiently_. They had each walked away believers.

The fact that the faces across the table happened to include the Primarch, the Defense Minister and several of the most respected Generals in the military was just, well, what it was. The fact that his father likely had strived his entire life for the opportunity to sit in a room such as this was, well, irrelevant. The fact that he could probably gloat over the fact that he was here and his father wasn't was, well, true…but also irrelevant.

The stakes were simply too high to spend time or energy on petty grudges…and he found himself more concerned not with _besting_ his father, but rather with trying to figure out how he could make sure his stubborn, proud father was safe when the attack inevitably came.

But that was the back of his mind – and this meeting was about the front of it. He frowned.

"Primarch, I don't really think that's necessary. I can assure you that the primary and auxiliary Menae posts are nearly complete, installation of surface-to-space missile launchers have begun, and the broad-spectrum tracking systems are in transit to Menae as we speak. Further, real-time synchronous backups and simultaneous communication capabilities have been tested and are ready to go. There's no need for you to inspect the facilities."

Fedorian twitched slightly. "I know. You have things well in hand, Vakarian, and there's nothing I can contribute to the operation. But we haven't been able to completely conceal our efforts on the moons; the media is sniffing around, and hard. I've decided to present our activities as a state-of-the-art strategic training center, designed to replicate harsh alien environments. Hide its true nature in plain sight, as it were. That requires me to make a show of touring the facilities, so I'll be making a visit in two weeks. But let's focus on the far more serious matters at hand. General Corinthus?"

Corinthus nodded. "If – when – the attack comes, I think we all agree it will likely hit Cipritine particularly hard. The bunker beneath the Hierarchy Assembly has been restocked and double-checked to ensure everything is in working order, and we've tested the alert system. We're recalling virtually all our military transport ships and as many civilian ones as we can without raising suspicions. We've already tripled our normal evacuation capacity, and it should be quadrupled by week's end."

Fedorian nodded thoughtfully. "Good work. General Victus?"

Adrien Victus' head slowly rose from its former position, which had been staring down at the conference table surface. Victus often gave the appearance of being an intellectual – perhaps a university professor, or an author of books on philosophical topics. His words were nearly always measured and seemed to come from a place of deep contemplation. In a lot of ways he reminded Garrus of his father – except that where his father tended to choose caution and adherence to the rules, Victus tended to choose clever trickery and strategic violence.

Garrus respected and, yes, even loved his father – but he _admired_ Victus.

Victus met Fedorian's gaze. "Everyone General-level and above in the military, and Director-level and above in the Defense Ministry branches, have been apprised of the situation – after being reviewed for signs of indoctrination, of course. The reactions to the news were…varying…but the consensus opinion is that the Army forces can lead a suitably fierce defensive campaign from the ground while also overseeing evacuations and refugee centers – and that Menae is the best location for the Navy to coordinate offensive maneuvers."

His shoulders twitched. "The problem, sir, is that we can't just _move_ the Navy command structure to Menae for what could be days, weeks, months even. If we knew when the attack will come, we could move Strategic Command to Menae just ahead of time. But in the absence of that, I think our best option is to get a core of people who can capably manage the situation up there now, and do our best to put in place a plan for moving the rest there when we believe the attack is imminent."

Fedorian exhaled. "The Batarian Hegemony has been unreachable for five weeks now. Based on the information provided by Alliance Commander Shepard and Admiral Hackett, unless the Reapers stopped and set up camp in the Viper Nebula, even pessimistic travel calculations put them at the next Relay within the next four weeks." His gaze moved across the table. "Vakarian, is there _any_ way we can get a lead on them before they get here?"

He slowly shook his head. They were all calm, reserved, controlled, as turians nearly always were…but he knew they secretly pleaded for him to have all the answers.

And he just _didn't_. No one did, not even Shepard, whose visions and nightmares contained nothing about travel velocities or engine signatures.

"After they pass through the Relay and into Trebia, sure – the mass effect trails alone will light up our sensors. But Sovereign got from the Widow Relay to within weapons-range of the Citadel in _twenty-seven_ _seconds_. Sure, the Trebia Relay is further away, but we're still talking _minutes_. We've sent some scout ships to the Viper Nebula, but with the Alpha Relay gone it's a long trip, and they'll probably pass the Reapers in transit like dust in the wind."

He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Primarch, Minister, Generals…but there's simply no way we will have adequate warning. All we can do is have the best plan possible in place for when they arrive."

The Primarch met his eyes, nodding slowly in understanding, and acceptance. "I'll stay close to Headquarters from now on; my wife will understand, as she always has. The plans and procedures you have been implementing sound first-rate, and above even the best I thought we could do; I commend you all."

Garrus sighed heavily. If he had his way, he would sequester Fedorian on some no-name planet half the galaxy away…but he knew the Primarch would never agree to that; that was probably why he was the Primarch. He looked back across the table.

"Generals, I think that means both of you should be on Menae – the sooner the better. When it comes, the attack will be swift; as the Primarch has astutely pointed out, we can't be caught trying to transition controls and decisions across the planet and shuttles and the moon. Respectfully, you are the best strategic minds we have – so you should be the first ones to Menae."

Victus nodded sharply; he had clearly already come to the same conclusion. "That's fine – but Vakarian, I want you there with me."

... ... ...

Garrus sipped the _piramo_…decidedly stronger than the _megdi_ of the first night, in more ways than one. His sister joined him in drinking _piramo_, though perhaps she sipped it more slowly; the fact that his father stuck to _megdi_…well, that was his father. Ever measured, ever controlled.

Didacus watched the sun drop below the silver-gold sky. "So how are things going with the Task Force?"

He shrugged mildly, belying the tension that seemed to constantly ripple beneath his skin these days. A different tension than what had come before, perhaps…but tension nonetheless.

He took another long sip. "We've nabbed twelve confirmed indoctrinated government officials. Lost five to suicide; two have disappeared. We've only lost three officials to assassins, which all things considered isn't too bad; I wish it were zero. We've likely identified all the indoctrinated agents we're going to, so we buried the artifact in a polonium/iron tomb last week. The transfer of backup files out to the moons is eighty-two percent complete, with sub-backups being transported to Pheiros. Thanix Cannon installations across the Navy are seventy-six percent complete. The strategic posts on Menae are eight-seven percent complete as of this morning, and critical personnel have started transitioning to there."

Solana looked over at him all too perceptively, cup at her lips as she cut straight through all the statistics to the heart of the matter. "Will it be enough?"

He stared out at the darkening sky. "It will buy us some time."

His father leaned against the railing. "Time for what?"

He squeezed his eyes shut. _Time for Shepard._ "Time for a miracle."

His father, unsurprisingly, was not pacified. "What makes you think we'll find a _miracle_?"

He exhaled slowly as the last golden light disappeared into darkness. "Because we have to."

As the sun set below the horizon, he turned to his father, meeting his gaze as one no longer afraid, no longer cowed. "I can get both of you on a transport to Digeris tomorrow, if you'll take it."

His father's chin dipped slightly, acknowledging the offer in all its fullness. "Thank you, son. I don't doubt the truth of what you say is coming; but for all the years spent on the Citadel, this is my home – _our_ home – and I will claim it as long as I am able."

Garrus nodded slowly; he had known what the answer would be. "You have all the current emergency transponder codes, right?" His father practically rolled his eyes in annoyance. Of _course_ he did.

Garrus ignored it. "This place should be far enough away from the city center to avoid the worst of the initial attack; you should be safe here for a couple of days. But when the opportunity comes for you to get on an evacuation transport…" his head dropped as his eyes closed for a moment before looking back up to his father, then his sister, in plaintive turn "…you _take_ it. Dad, no one could ever doubt your courage or fortitude, but you _can't_ fight these things. The bravest, strongest thing you can do is _live_. It's the one thing they would take from you and it's the one thing you can deny them. _Please._"

His father held his gaze for a long moment before turning to stare out across the plains, now blackened under the night sky. "Cassia always loved you, Garrus, with all her heart…but I think today, she would be proud of you." He turned back from the fields and to his son. "As am I. You've become everything I could have ever hoped for in a son, and then some."

Solana smiled, not minding the comparative lack of praise. For she had enjoyed their father's affection for the entirety of her life, whereas her brother had suffered from a relative lack of it for many years. When their father's arms stretched out, she willingly joined her brother in the family embrace, sadly feeling the absence of her wonderful, wise mother but thankful for the love she had here, now.

After a moment they separated, a couple of awkward throat-clearings along the way. Garrus took a deep breath. "So it looks like I'm going to have to head for Menae soon; I likely won't be here when things get bad." He smiled bravely. "But I know you both can look out for yourselves, and one another. You'll be fine."

Solana chuckled tearfully, hugging at his shoulder. Their father merely nodded serenely, as always. "I'll feel better knowing you're among those leading our defense…" he noted Garrus' slight twitch "…even if 'our' ultimately means everyone in the galaxy. I know you have a larger purpose, a larger destiny, Garrus. When the time comes, son…_follow_ _it_. We'll do our best to be here when it's all over."

* * *

_Two weeks later_

"So as you can see, sir, this encampment is capable of serving as a fully-functional command base. It isn't much to look at – but that's the idea. We're hoping that the low-key, almost camouflaged nature of the camps will delay their detection by the Reapers; with a little luck, they won't even know we're here, at least for a while. We have four smaller outposts spread out across the Palaven-facing side of the moon, and they can all operate as a distributed network as well."

Primarch Fedorian looked around a last time, nodding slowly. "Excellent work, Gen– Vakarian." He smiled. "We live through this, we're going to need to get you a title."

Garrus chuckled lightly. "We live through this, sir, and I might even accept one." He gestured behind him. "If you'd like, we can – "

The specially-designed broad-spectrum early warning system lit up as a cacophony of sounds and alarms rang out from it.

The tech officer on duty looked up, eyes wide. "Sirs, we're getting readings on, well, virtually all signals – radio, infrared, dark, gamma – everything just went crazy!"

Garrus' chin dropped, his eyes closing for just a moment.

_Time's up._

He looked over at the Primarch. The man wore a grim but determined expression as he gazed up into the sky. "Congratulations, Vakarian. Looks like you were right."

"I'd prefer it if I were wrong."

"Wouldn't we all…" Fedorian nodded sharply, turning and hurrying into the bunker, hitting his comm as he did so. "Victus, Corinthus, the board is red. I repeat, the board is _red_. I'm implementing Alpha Protocol, effective immediately." Then he turned to the communications officer as Garrus quickly followed him inside. "I need the Defense Minister, the Select Committee Chairman, Admiral Talladin and Councilor Sparatus on holo-conference in thirty seconds."

It was twenty-eight minutes before the first Reaper appeared – time enough for the majority of their cruisers and dreadnoughts to have deployed in a defensive formation around Palaven, as they had been on priority alert for days now. That Reaper, and the three dozen that followed it, flew right past Menae and engaged the fleet directly.

They didn't go completely unnoticed, though. Four hours after the attack began, the first fireball crashed onto Menae's surface not far from Outpost Charlie. Then another, and another. At first, they carried four-eyed creatures, recognizable all too easily as Batarian Husks. After several hours though, they started including more and more Human husks.

Garrus cursed as a wave of Husks set off one of his proximity mines and exploded ten meters from the outer perimeter. They could have picked up Humans in any number of places – Eden Prime, Terra Nova, Bekenstein, to name a few. But given that the Reapers had come directly to Palaven, bypassing several turian colonies along the way, he had a deep suspicion that they had gone directly to Earth as well.

He had his own problems to deal with, to say the least. He motioned for Lieutenant Tebestik to take his team and flank the area where the fireballs had been dropping, then turned and headed for the comm center to check in with the other outposts. Still, he couldn't help but think about Shepard. When he had last checked a week ago, she had still been in detention…but if he knew her, and he'd like to think he did, by now she'd have a ship, an army, and a very big gun. Probably two.

He grabbed an energy drink from the cooler and hit the secure comm. "Outpost Bravo, report in."

There was silence for a moment before Victus responded. "Vakarian, we have a problem. We've got a Reaper landing approximately two kilometers from our location. Looks like the enemy knows we're here."

"I'm on the way." He cut the link and hurried over to the command bunker. "General Corinthus, I'm taking a buggy over to Bravo; they have a Reaper incoming."

Corinthus nodded distractedly, his gaze focused on the battlefield readout in front of him. "So I see. I'm sure we'll have our own soon enough." He looked up briefly. "Good luck."

"And you." He turned and was heading toward the small assortment of ground vehicles when his name rang out.

"Vakarian!"

He quickly looked around to find Fedorian motioning him over. He changed course and jogged over to the Primarch. "Sir?"

"I'm headed back down to Cipritine. I need to – "

"Sir, I don't think that's a good idea, it's too dangerous. It's a war zone out there…"

"I know. But I wasn't intending on being here when the attack hit; there are a number of things I need to take care of before I leave."

"Leave?"

Fedorian nodded. "I've called a summit among the leaders of the Council races; hopefully we can work together and come up with a joint plan to fight these…monsters. The Council is sending someone to pick me up; they'll be here in the morning. I've got just enough time to get down to the surface, handle what I need to, and get back here before they arrive."

Garrus gazed up at a sky at war. A pitched battle continued in the space over Palaven, as it had for the last twelve hours. A number of cruisers and four dreadnoughts had already been destroyed, creating gaps in the defense net that allowed several Reapers to reach the surface. Multiple regions of Palaven now glowed a red-gold hue of fire and destruction. His gaze flitted to a transport ship as it slipped between several Reapers and flew overhead on its way to the Relay. _Dad, sis, please be on one of those evacuation transports. Get _out_ of there._

He nodded grimly at the Primarch. "I can't stop you sir, and I know you only do what you must. Fortune willing, I'll see you in the morning."

Fedorian reached out and clasped Garrus' hand warmly. "I'm truly glad your father convinced me to listen to you; you've given us a chance. If I don't see you again, it's been an honor."

"The honor's all mine, sir. Be safe."

Fedorian nodded, then turned and hurried toward the waiting shuttle.

Garrus turned and headed in the opposite direction, toward the waiting Reaper.


	4. It's A Trap!

**If It Meant Living: Tales**

"**It's A Trap!"**

* * *

_**July, 2183: One Week Before Sovereign's Attack on the Citadel**_

_Xavin: __Strennus System, Horse Head Nebula_

Shepard knelt down beside the body, carefully removing the datapad clutched in the stiffened hand. She scanned it briefly, tapping the screen a few times. "Yep…this is him. His Journal says the ship was attacked and disabled by mercenaries; he and a few of his men fled in the escape shuttles, but the mercs tracked them down planetside." She slowly stood, hands resting against her knees as she stretched up.

Ashley was leaning against the wall to her left, arms crossed over her chest, head shaking slowly in disgust. "The man was just trying to make a living…fucking mercs."

Shepard glanced back down at the body. "The galaxy is a dangerous place, Ash. Captain Willem here learned that the hard way. I'll send his brother a message when we get back to the Normandy." She looked toward the far wall, where Kaidan was hacking the central terminal. "Got anything, Alenko?"

He held up a finger, signaling for another moment…then shut down the terminal and his Omni-tool and turned to her. "Not much. Looks like these guys were loosely affiliated with the Blue Suns, but there's no real structural organization – just small-time smugglers and thieves."

She nodded, sparing him a slight smile. "Alright. We'll forward what you found to the Alliance – this is ESA space, they should at least be able to increase patrols in this system if nothing else."

She glanced around the shabby, wrecked command center of the merc gang a final time, then sighed. "We have bigger fish to fry; let's get out of here."

Back aboard the Normandy, she took a quick shower then began her regular evening tour of the ship.

The crew was getting antsy, she knew. It had been weeks since they'd made any progress on finding Saren, or the Conduit, or figuring out what the Conduit even _was_. More than a month after receiving the 'Cipher' on Feros, the images in her brain were slowly beginning to coalesce into a coherent narrative…but that narrative only showed death and destruction on an unfathomable scale.

Nevertheless, she was still riding a bit of a high after destroying Cerberus' operations in the Voyager Cluster. _Damn, but it had felt good to deal such a heavy blow to a group responsible for so much evil_…

She quickly suppressed an instinctive frown as she rounded the corner on the Crew Deck only to find Kaidan's station empty. _Oh well, he's probably off fixing something or other._ She knew he spent far too much of his off-duty time helping the engineers and techs repair the variety of glitches that a prototype starship inevitably developed – but she also knew that asking him to work less would be futile. Of course, the same was true of every member of her team, and the crew; they were all doing whatever it took to get the job done and then some.

She thought about stopping in to see Liara…but the back of the Med Lab was darkened. Liara had been sleeping far too little of late – between dealing with her mother's death and the incredible pressure she was putting on herself to solve the mystery of the Conduit, she was stretching herself to the limit. If she happened to be sleeping now, Shepard wasn't going to disturb her.

She took the elevator down to the Cargo Bay, only to find Garrus absent from his usual location near the Mako. She glanced over at the Armory. No Ashley.

However, Wrex _was_ over there, playing with the guns. "Where is everyone?"

He grunted distractedly, gesturing towards Engineering with an assault rifle.

"Thanks." She turned and headed down the ramp into Engineering…where she found Tali, Adams, Garrus and Kaidan huddled over a large object in the middle of the floor; Ashley sat on the floor against the wall, idly watching them while she tinkered with a sniper scope.

Shepard chuckled lightly as a hand fell to her hip. "Guys, the Normandy is not a junkyard – we _can't_ keep picking up random space debris thinking it might be treasure."

Tali glanced up. "But Shepard, this probe is over 2,000 years old! We think it's Salarian; who knows what it might hold…" Kaidan looked over his shoulder briefly, giving her a slightly self-deprecating shrug. _Can't help it_, it said.

"Yeah, like deadly spores or self-replicating spider bots…" She rolled her eyes. "Alright, see if you can get it open, but _be careful_. We need to – "

Her Omni-tool beeped. "Commander, you've got an incoming call from Admiral Hackett."

"Okay, thank you, Joker. I'll be right up." She sighed dramatically. "Duty calls."

But as she walked away she was smiling, warmed by the sight of her team getting along so well, working together, helping each other out. It hadn't been that way at first, had been a bit of a bumpy ride getting here…but they were at last displaying a level of camaraderie and trust that would make them far stronger on the field of battle, something she had a sneaking suspicion they were going to need before the end.

... ... ...

_Agebinium: Amazon System, Voyager Cluster_

Kaidan gritted his teeth as the Mako bounced wildly over a ledge, hanging on to the stability bar tightly. But he didn't say anything, lest Shepard get it in her head to leave him behind on the ship next time.

Ashley laughed briefly at him before turning back to the driver's seat. "So how does the Alliance lose a nuclear bomb for twenty-six years, anyway?"

Shepard shrugged as she yanked the wheel to the left, avoiding a deep hole. "I think the Alliance did a lot of things in the early days of the First Contact War that in retrospect weren't necessarily smart. I suppose I can't fault them; we hadn't even met any aliens yet and we were already at war with them…on the other hand, I don't know what they _expected_ to find at the other end of a massive, impossibly-advanced space teleportation device…"

She frowned as they crested a low hill. "The more pertinent question, however, is what is it doing _here_?"

A plain, unadorned structure protruded from the craggy hillside in front of them. She looked over her shoulder. "This is the location the sensors picked up, right?"

Kaidan nodded in affirmation. "It looks like it may be coming from inside that hill, but we'll need to get a little closer to be sure."

"Alright. Out we go. It's about -100⁰ out there, so grab a sweater." Then the hatch was open and she was standing in the freezing, blood-red air.

She stared up at the giant red sun dominating the sky. "Look at that…"

Kaidan came up beside her. "It's impressive, I'll give you that…shame it's slowly destroying the planet. So…do I put the sweater on _over _or _under _the enviro-suit?"

She looked over at him, a small smile pulling at her lips – as frequently seemed to happen these days when she looked at him – and could see the twinkle in his eye even through the helmet. "Given the circumstances, over." Her gaze drifted back to the artificial structure, the smile fading. "In there, huh?"

His shoulders lifted slightly. "Let's find out."

A moment later they stood at the base of a ramp leading up to a three-meter-wide hole cut into the hillside, held open by circular plating.

She frowned again. "You're _sure_ the bomb's in there?"

Kaidan nodded, studying the readings on his Omni-tool. "The Alliance transponder code is pinging back; I'm also reading trace levels of plutonium about…fifty meters inside."

Ashley scowled. "How the hell does a bomb, probe, whatever, get _inside_ a mineshaft?"

"Easy – someone puts it there." Shepard's eyes darted along the hillside. She spun around in a slow three-sixty…but behind them was only marginally uneven terrain for as far as the eye could see.

"Are you picking up anything else from inside?"

Kaidan exhaled slowly through pursed lips. "Maybe…there's a sort of low-level static, a diffuse signal. Can't pin it down from out here." He looked up at her. "Are we ready to go in?"

Her head shook as she looked around again. The hill the mineshaft was built into was steep but scalable; in the distance to the left a gentler slope peeked out.

"You guys hold here; anything comes out of the mine, point a gun at it. I'll be right back." And with that, she took off running up the hill.

Ashley sighed heavily and leaned against one of the crates scattered around the outside of the mine. "I hate it when she does that."

Kaidan didn't respond, his focus already back on his Omni-tool. She stared at him for a moment. "Don't you hate it when she does that?"

He glanced up briefly and shrugged. "Nah." He then returned to concentrating on whatever was scrolling across his Omni-tool display.

Ashley's nose scrunched up, a perplexed look on her face. "Why not?"

"Because inevitably, when she gets back she'll have a plan to kick-ass and look good doing it."

He could feel Ashley's smirk burning into his forehead. "I mean, a plan for us all to look…skilled and professional…while successfully completing the mission."

"Right…" Her teasing expression softened. "Does she know how you feel about her?"

He didn't look up. "Sort of."

"What does 'sort of' mean?"

He sighed and looked over at her. "It means 'sort of.' Now shouldn't you be, I don't know, 'standing watch' or something? I'm trying to memorize the schematics of a Mark IV Class B tactical fusion warhead that was designed when I was in diapers."

She idly crossed one ankle over the other. "There's some sort of animal burrow about thirty meters to our southwest; small though, shouldn't be a threat. Tire tracks over to the right here indicate someone has visited the mine recently – if this wind is typical, I'd say in the last twelve hours at most. These crates are all empty; whatever they carried has already been hauled inside. The construction of the mineshaft, or at least the outside of it, is shoddy – these supports were thrown together in a hurry." She gazed back over at him, a single eyebrow raised.

He huffed a laugh, head dipping dramatically in a gesture of exaggerated respect.

It was another fifteen minutes before Shepard returned, slipping and sliding down the hillside then hurrying over to them.

"So we've got about three dozen mercs on the other side of this hill; they've set up a moderate camp over there. There's another structure built into that side, right in front of their camp – if I had to guess I'd say it's an exit from the mine."

Kaidan frowned deeply. "So it's a trap, then?"

"Not anymore."

"What do you mean?"

She grinned wickedly. "What I mean is, a trap is only a trap if you don't know about it. If you _do_ know about it, it's an opportunity."

_Shepard flattened against the wall and peered around the corner. The alley was clear, and she motioned her team ahead. As the last one passed she fell in behind him, jogging quickly but quietly down the narrow passage._

"_The target is two more blocks north, Lieutenant."_

_She hit her comm in reply as she returned to point. "Got it. Hold for my signal."_

_She exited the alley and into the darkened street, staying flush with the buildings. It was the middle of the night and the area was deserted, thankfully – she didn't need any messy civilian encounters fucking up the op. When she reached the next block she signaled for the rest to advance to her position._

"_Two snipers on the roof, 11 and 1 o'clock. Jameson, you take right. On my mark – now." The two shadowy figures silently collapsed nearly simultaneously onto the rooftop._

_She swung her scope down to ground level. "Two guards on the doors…maybe three. They're in the shadows, can't get a clear shot. Valon, Montsky, Miller, swing around back and take them out – quietly, please. Once they're down we'll move in."_

"_Aye, aye, ma'am."_

_Her eyes swept across the area as she counted the minutes until her men reappeared, in a flash snapping the necks of the two guards. She turned to the other members of the squad. "Okay, remember, anyone inside could be a hostage, but they will probably have guards in there too. Check your targets. Let's go."_

_Once the doors and the entry room had been cleared, she pulled up the scanner on her Omni-tool. "Thermal signatures indicate 17 people in a central room on the second floor, two of them displaying the tell-tale outlines of weapons." That matched the information they'd been provided – 15 hostages. "Stairway is northwest. Only one entrance to the room, so clear the door and quick fan-out."_

_She shut down the Omni-tool and slowly climbed the wide staircase, hugging the wall, palm outstretched and ready. The building was eerily silent and pitch black; she pulled down a night-vision lens as she crested the stairs._

_One turn of the hallway and the room where the hostages were being held was in front of them. She silently held up her hand, fingers dropping as she counted down to zero, then burst through the door and slid along the left wall, the rest of the squad behind her; in three seconds all dozen of them were inside, guns ready._

_She signaled to Therry, and a spotlight flipped on, blinding both friend and foe in the center of the room. "Lower your weapons! You're surround– "_

_There was a loud boom, and the world turned red._

…_she blinked rapidly, trying to clear the halos; she could see members of her team lying on the floor – some unmoving, some writhing in apparent agony._

"_Motherfucker…I hate bombs!" Montsky grabbed at her knee._

_Valon was closest to her; he looked up at her with plaintive eyes, hands covering his gut. "Tell my wife…I love her…"_

_Shepard ignored him, gritting her teeth as her eyes rapidly scanned the room._

_Montsky rolled her eyes at Valon. "You don't _have_ a wife."_

_He exhaled heavily. "Tell my mistress…I love her…oh wait, my mistress is dead, too!" He gave an exaggerated head nod and wink from his prone position on the floor._

_Montsky groaned loudly. "In your dreams, Valon…"_

"_Ohhhh, rejected by my mistress as I bleed out on the floor…a terrible end to a – "_

"_Enough!" Shepard growled. "This is not a joke!"_

_The lights suddenly came on, revealing a spartan room with high ceilings and no furniture, humanoid shapes scattered in the center._

"_You are correct, Lieutenant. This is most certainly not a joke." Major Nolan emerged from a door that shouldn't have been there; she noted out of the corner of her eye as Valon and the others scrambled up off the floor and into formal stances. _

"_Congratulations, Shepard. You're dead – as is your entire team."_

_She stood at attention and nodded tightly. "Yes, sir." Then her brow furrowed, eyes narrowing. "…I would love to know _how_, sir. The entrances were covered; thermal scans showed no further hostiles. Sensors indicated no explosive materials in the vicinity – "_

"_Did they, now?"_

_She frowned deeply, double-checking her Omni-tool. "_Yes_, sir. X-ray and infrared came back negative, as did eezo scans…" She looked up just in time to catch a small object he tossed to her. She turned the plain, pale clump of material over in her hand._

"_Ceramic-beryllium composite alloy. Completely inert until hit with a targeted electrical pulse – then, 'boom.' Salarian STG invented it, crafty little lizards."_

_Her arm fell to her side as she looked around him to the center of the room. "And the hostages? The kidnappers? Am I supposed to believe they blew themselves up as well as us?"_

_He smiled craftily. "What hostages?"_

_She pursed her lips together, holding back the retort that had threatened to emerge from them. "Sir, I understand that those are just dummies as this was a training exercise, but thermal scans indicated 17 individuals in the room. For purposes of the exercise, there _were_ people in here…"_

_He motioned over his shoulder and walked toward the center of the room. "Everybody, pay attention." He reached down and hefted up a limp form. "Your basic humanoid mech, fitted with a thermal unit designed to simulate a living being. Leave out the VI brain, and they're not even that expensive to acquire. They're not here because this was an exercise – they're part of the scenario."_

_She nodded slowly. "So it was a trap, then. Sir, is this another Kobayashi Maru-type test of some sort? Because, respectfully, I already did one of those last week, and – "_

"_And performed quite well – yes, I know. And no, it isn't. This scenario was entirely, if not easily, winnable." _

_His hands clasped behind his back as he began pacing slowly, all eyes now on him. "Lieutenant, I'm going to impart some words of wisdom shared with me many years ago by the best instructor I ever had. To quote: 'A trap is only a trap if you don't know about it. If you _do_ know about it, it's an opportunity.'"_

_Her head tilted a bit as she absorbed the words. "That's an excellent observation, sir – but how were we supposed to know this was a trap?"_

_He shrugged mildly. "You tell me."_

_That meant there was an answer. She ran back through the mission in her head, looking for anything out of sync…_

"_If they were really holding hostages here, the building should have been more heavily guarded. It was far too easy to get in."_

_He nodded. "Good. What else?"_

_She began pacing as well, hand at her chin. "Well, if they were smart kidnappers, they wouldn't have held the hostages in such a large room, where they might lose control of them; probably would have shackled them in some way, too."_

_He nodded again, silently encouraging her. He was a hard-ass, but this wasn't Basic. Everyone here was a talented soldier; his job was to make them better._

"_They probably would have had sensors at the entrance to the room and elsewhere, just in case someone got past the guards; tripping them would have sent the kidnappers into full alert..." She stopped and looked back at him, holding up the blob in her hand. "But sir, how the hell were we supposed to detect this stuff, if it's undetectable?"_

_One side of his mouth quirked upward. "I didn't say it was undetectable. I said it was inert."_

_She just stared at him._

"_Gamma rays."_

_She sighed heavily, her shoulders dropping. "I'm sorry, sir, but tech is not exactly my strong suit. You're going to have be more explicit."_

"_Then it's probably a good idea to always have someone with you for whom tech _is_ their strong suit, Lieutenant. A skilled military tech will have the necessary mods to run a gamma sweep; it's not very healthy if you make it a habit, so we don't include it in the standard equipment." He smiled somewhat kindly then. "You don't have to know _how_ all the tools at your disposal work – but you _do_ have to know what they can do for you."_

_She nodded. "I understand, sir." She gazed around the room again. "So…what's the opportunity?"_

_He chuckled. "Now you're getting it. The pulse required to set off that alloy has to be a short-range, very specific high-frequency, directed signal. Be ready for it, and you can trace it to the perpetrators' location. Catch the bad guys."_

_She smiled slightly. "Always enjoy doing that, sir."_

_He turned to the larger audience, his voice raising so that it carried throughout the room. "Despite this extensive information session, the lesson of this exercise is not actually that this was a trap. The lesson you need to take away from the exercise is this: it could _always_ be a trap."_

_He resumed pacing leisurely. "Anytime you have incomplete information, anytime you even think you _might_ have incomplete or bad information, be prepared to be walking into a trap. Most of the time, you'll be pleasantly disappointed – right up until that time you're not."_

_He pointed at the mech bodies as he took the alloy back from her. "Always be scanning the engagement area, looking for anything that doesn't seem right, doesn't feel right. Be ready to use any tool you have on hand to uncover hidden factors at play. Hone your instincts – then trust them. It will save your life and the lives of those you protect."_

She hit her comm. "Shepard to Normandy."

Joker responded. "This is Normandy. Whatcha need, Commander?"

"Comm in the rest of the team for me." She activated the speaker so Kaidan and Ashley could hear as well. Fifteen seconds later everyone was on the line. "Time to suit up, everyone. We've got a moderately-sized merc band of unknown origin, a live nuclear weapon, and a booby-trapped mine. This – "

Kaidan's eyes narrowed. "Shepard, what makes you think the mine is rigged?"

She grinned at him – deviously enough to send his heart racing – and muted her comm. "Trust me. It's rigged." She returned to the call. "This is a very elaborate setup just to kill me – or possibly anyone that wanders along – so I'm thinking something more is going on here, and I aim to find out what. Joker, you're going to ground-drop Garrus and Liara 2.5 kilometers west-northwest from my position, behind some hills, and Wrex and Tali 4.7 kilometers due east from them. Stay low and behind the terrain, because all the emissions stealth in the world isn't going to stop the mercs from _seeing_ you. Guys, I'm sorry we can't drop you closer, but we can't risk the mercs being alerted."

She paused and glanced back over the terrain in the distance. "Once you're ground-side, proceed to within covered-sight of the coordinates I'm sending you. Let me know when you're there, then hold position until I signal you to move in. Any questions?"

"Clear." "I'm good." "Got it." "No, ma'am."

"Alright, you are a go." She cut the link and looked over at Kaidan and Ashley. "Alenko, odds are quite high that you're going to have to disarm that bomb, and rather quickly. It's an Alliance Model M4-CB – "

He nodded, smiling just a bit. "I know; I already pulled the specs. It won't be a problem."

"Excellent." She crossed in front of him, gloved fingers brushing ever-so-lightly against his similarly-gloved hand – the unexpected contact sending shivers up his arm despite two layers of thick material between them – before sitting down in between the two of them and leaning casually against the crate.

"Now, we wait."

... ... ...

Garrus glanced over at Liara as they hiked over the…it would be exaggerating to call it "mountainous" terrain, but not by much. "So how have you been doing, Dr. T'Soni? I haven't seen you out and about much since…in the last few weeks."

She smiled briefly at him. "We've known each other for several months now – please, call me Liara."

"Alright." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm sure I said how sorry I was about your mother, but…you've handled it gracefully and with class."

"Thank you. I…there was no other choice, even she recognized that. The truth is, my mother died some time ago; the person we saw that day was a hollow shell, filled with Saren's poison."

She frowned slightly at the incline still in front of them, then continued on. "Anyway, I've been spending most of my time pouring over my files – everyone's files – on the Protheans, searching for anything that can point us toward the Conduit. Thus far to no avail, I'm afraid. For a species that spanned two-thirds of the galaxy at the height of their empire, the Protheans left remarkably little behind."

Garrus frowned slightly at the incline still in front of them, then continued on. "You'll find the answer, don't worry."

She breathed in deeply, feeling the chill in her lungs despite her helmet's air filtration system. "I have to…I only hope I'm not too late."

... ... ...

Wrex took off jogging up the slope as soon as their boots hit the ground.

Tali quickly started off after him. "Wrex, wait! I think it's quite some distance to our hold point – perhaps you should slow down?"

He grunted over his shoulder as he disappeared over the first crest. "Faster we get there, faster we can kick back and relax!"

She sucked in a breath and hurried after him, catching him midway up the next hill. He looked over at her briefly, subtly slowing his pace.

"So, you got some space toy to play with the other day?"

She nodded quickly. "Yes, it was a derelict space probe orbiting Yanthori, though its orbit was decaying rapidly; it wouldn't have lasted another fifty years. It's Salarian in origin, but over 2,000 years old, dating from around the time the Salarians found the Citadel, and thus, the Asari. We had to take a lot of precautions, but Engineer Adams and I were just about to get the inner capsule open when Shepard commed – I'm really excited about what we might find – "

"Goddamn Quarians…do you find _anything_ you don't have to tinker with?" He didn't wait for an answer, once again lengthening his stride.

She hurried after him. "Well, no, not really…"

... ... ...

Garrus' comm came in less than five minutes after Wrex's. "We're in position, Shepard."

"Excellent." She opened the comm to include Wrex and Tali. "Everyone hold position for a bit, catch your breath. We'll be a little while – but be ready for my signal."

She cut the link. "Call."

"Dammit…" Ashley revealed two fours, a seven, an eight, and a Jack on her Omni-tool display, then shut it off.

Shepard looked over at Kaidan, an eyebrow raised. "Call…"

His expression was completely blank as he tapped his display and a Straight Flush appeared. Her eyes narrowed dangerously at him, threatening – and promising – retribution. "I'll be goddamn…_fine_. Two hundred credits have been deposited into your account, _Lieutenant_." His lips smacked in satisfaction.

She stood up, brushing off red dirt from much of her suit. "Alright, we're up. Alenko, from the minute we hit that door, I want you scanning for trips, explosives, _anything_ – on every frequency we know. We find bad guys, Williams and I will handle them; Williams, obviously that means I want you scanning for bad guys. We good?" At their nods, she gazed up at the ramp into the mine.

"Let's do this."

They were less than a meter into the first chamber when Kaidan raised a hand. "I've got something."

Shepard couldn't help but grin in satisfaction – with herself for knowing that there would _be_ something, and with Kaidan for finding it so quickly. "Where?"

He studied the reading for a moment. "The walls, mostly. We've got leads running along the walls up to…" he tapped quickly on his Omni-tool "…the pillars holding this room up." He pulled up a scope and stared through it at the ceiling. "There are clusters of…looks like a CH-6 compound. Crude, but effective." He put the scope away. "The other end of the leads converge on a transceiver in that far corner. After that, it's wireless."

She smiled at him. "Damn, Kaidan. I knew there was a reason I kept you around."

He opened his mouth, a witty and rather suggestive retort on his tongue…but he just couldn't quite bring himself to say it, still feeling constrained by heavily-ingrained protocol and formality. Instead he merely nodded. "Just glad I could help." He could see Ashley rolling her eyes exaggeratedly behind Shepard, and shot her a withering glare as soon as Shepard turned away.

"So can we take out the transceiver _without_ whoever is on the other end knowing we did?"

He thought for a second. "I'll have to get a look at it to know."

"Okay. Is it going to go off before we reach it?"

He exhaled slowly. "Considering it hasn't gone off already, I don't think so. It's either controlled by the doors, tripwires, or a third party. Keep our eyes open for trips, and traversing this room _should_ be safe."

She nodded. "Let's take it slow all the same."

Eight agonizing minutes later Kaidan stared intently at the transceiver. "It's triggered externally."

Shepard raised an eyebrow beside him. "And…that's a good thing, right?"

He nodded, chuckling lightly. "Yes. That means we can cut it and, if we do it right, whoever's on the other end won't know."

She gazed at the ceiling, and at nothing. "So they send the signal to detonate, and nothing happens…but maybe they don't know that. Unless the explosives are powerful enough to collapse the entire hillside. Are they?"

He shook his head quickly. "Not even close. Just enough to collapse this room." His mouth twitched. "The nuclear bomb in here, on the other hand…that's a twenty-kiloton warhead – if it goes off, those mercs outside are going to get caught in the blast. Surely they realize that?"

She took a half-step back, eyes narrowing slightly as she disappeared momentarily inside her own thoughts. Her mouth worked concertedly, teeth biting alternately on her lower and upper lips in a haphazard way that threatened to drive him mad and was not in any way helpful to the situation at hand. In desperation he focused back on the transceiver, keeping a watch on her out of the corner of his eye.

After an interminable few seconds, she nodded slowly. "Either they really are that stupid, in which case we have nothing to worry about, or…they expect us to be able to disarm the bomb…because they want to kill us themselves."

She grinned to herself – though both Kaidan and Ashley saw and enjoyed it – her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Pity the man who thinks he _hasn't_ underestimated me…" Her eyes darted to Kaidan. "Kill the transceiver – as subtly as possible, of course."

He nodded quickly, turning back to it. He activated the electron probe attachment on his Omni-tool and carefully burned the wires' connection to the transceiver. Satisfied, he straightened up. "Done."

She smiled at him again, quickly but intimately. "Good job." Then she turned to Ashley, who was by now looking thoroughly bored, leaning against the rocky wall, idly twirling her rifle in her hands. "Don't worry, Ash – I promise, you will get your chance to wreak havoc soon enough. But first, we go in there." She nodded towards the circular door built into the mine wall. "Alenko, I expect there will be a nuclear bomb somewhere on the other side of that door, so…be ready."

He nodded sharply. "Always am…ma'am." Her eyes cut back at him for only the briefest split-second before she opened the door.

The door only revealed another tunnel, which revealed another door. _That_ door, however, revealed a nuclear bomb. And a few other things.

As soon as the door closed behind them – Kaidan already kneeling beside the rather large probe/bomb in the corner – a holographic projection appeared in the middle of the small cavern, consisting primarily of the head-and-shoulders image of a rather unremarkable-looking human male. Hair shaved close enough to almost be considered bald, a scar cutting across his nose, pale blue eyes, pasty skin. She regarded the projection speculatively, and waited.

"Shepard...at last."

Her head tilted slightly, eyeing the projection at a studied angle. "You have me at a disadvantage, Mr.…"

The man laughed uproariously, looking absurd as his head bobbed up and down. "No matter. I know _you_." His gazed centered back on her. "The name is Elanos Haliat. You wouldn't know it, but I was once the king of the Terminus Systems underworld. My crowning achievement, and the first step in our larger conquest of the galaxy, was to be the takeover of Elysium."

She frowned in spite of herself. _Elysium? But that was Batarians…no matter. Later._ She returned her gaze to the projection, deliberately working the frown into a smirk. "You're saying that _you_ were behind the Skyllian Blitz? Color me skeptical."

He scoffed, his visage clipping off the projection briefly. "I may not have been on the ground, leaving the scutwork to the Batarians, but I was the idea, the vision behind it…" His eyes narrowed, focusing on her to the point where they absurdly dominated the projection. "And it should have worked – it _would_ have worked. Except for _you_. Right place, right time, an upstart young officer looking to prove her worth – I get it, Shepard, I do. And that's fine. You thwarted me that day…but you won't _this_ day."

Her mind was reeling with unwelcome thoughts, but she held her expression. "Haliat, you won't get away – "

"Have fun with your little present, Shepard." He cut the link as the probe's display started blinking bright red.

_10…_

She immediately turned to Kaidan. "Do you have it?"

_9…_

He didn't respond, focused as he was on the 20-kiloton nuclear warhead in front of him.

_8…_

He stood up as the display vanished, exhaling sharply. "It's disarmed."

In another situation she might have thrown him a grin and a compliment. Here she just nodded sharply, already turning toward the exit. "They'll know in a few seconds it didn't go off. Let's move." She hit her comm as she hurried down the tunnel. "Get ready. On my signal, wipe them out."

They made a hard left, headed down the twin tunnel, out the back exit, and onto the hard dirt slope above the mercenary camp.

Elanos Haliat took several steps toward them before stopping twenty meters away, fingers twitching over the gun on his hip. "Nice job, Shepard. I should have known a simple nuclear warhead wouldn't pose a challenge for you." He shrugged. "No matter; just means I get to kill you myself."

She merely raised an eyebrow, arms crossing lightly over her stomach. "How did you know I would be the one to come for the probe? The Alliance could have sent anyone."

He smiled; it was an unpleasant sight. "I have more than one friend in the Alliance, and I know you're Hackett's errand girl these days. It wasn't that difficult to find out your ship had entered the Voyager Cluster. Only then did I activate the probe's signal."

"Fine. Why Elysium?"

"Why not Elysium? Smack in the middle of the Skyllian Verge, sitting at the vortex of so many simmering conflicts – take it out, and the whole region collapses into chaos. And pirates thrive on chaos. My wealth and power would multiply as my gangs fed on those hapless people caught in the middle of it all."

He sighed almost dreamily. "It was a beautiful plan…" Then he stared back at her, eyes full of hatred. "Why did you have to be there, Shepard? You could have gone anywhere…_why_ did you have to go there?"

She met his stare coldly, eyes darkening. "I heard they had great seafood." She lightly touched the comm transceiver on her belt with her index finger. "Now."

The camp lit up with gunfire, explosions and biotic energy as Garrus and Liara appeared from the left, Wrex and Tali from the right, and Kaidan and Ashley stepped forward on either side of her. The mercs scrambled around, hunting for cover and targets while activating their shields, but it was all far too slow and far too late as the combined firepower of her team, coupled with superior position and the element of surprise, utterly overwhelmed their significantly greater numbers.

Shepard didn't even raise her weapon. She just stood there, arms crossed, smiling malevolently at Haliat as he looked around in panic. After several seconds he turned back to her, boiling over with rage. "Bitch! You'll pay fo– "

He fell to a headshot from Ash.

... ... ...

Kaidan exited the showers following a late night workout, slipping on his BDUs and heading for the mess for a quick snack before finally, maybe, going to bed. The mission today had left him keyed up, the punishing workout only slightly taking the edge off.

The ship was quiet, a few members of the skeleton night crew moving about the only signs of activity. He rounded the corner, running his fingers through his still damp hair…and saw Shepard sitting at the table in the corner, hands wrapped around a steaming mug, staring down at its contents as if the secrets to the universe could be found within.

He was standing there debating whether to approach her or leave her be when she looked over at him, smiling just a bit. "Kaidan."

He returned the smile, heading to the cabinets behind the counter and grabbing a snack. "Mind if I join you for a few?"

She leaned back in the chair, bringing the mug to her lips. "Please do."

He sat down across from her, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he opened the package of granola and nuts. She wore an expression that was not at all typical for her – heavy, troubled. Unsure of what to do with it, he searched for something to say. "So what do you – "

"I'm such an idiot."

He frowned, brow furrowing in consternation. "What? How could you possibly think that? You were amazing today."

Her eyes rose from her cup – of tea, he could now see – and met his. They were even more troubled than her expression, dark and turbulent, pale violet swirling into indigo. It made for a stark, shocking contrast to their usual dazzling vivacity.

"Elysium. I've spent all this time hating the Batarians for what they tried to do, linking it in my mind with Mindoir, thinking I had a personal vendetta. But it turns out it was Haliat…just some two-bit thug…just another criminal power play."

"The Batarians were still at the forefront of the attack, that hasn't changed…" he replied hesitantly.

Her head shook slowly. "They were just following orders. Another day on the job." She sighed heavily. "No…I was wrong. Maybe not about Mindoir, but about Elysium…who knows what else."

She huffed a sad, desperate laugh; the sound of it tore at his heart. "I wonder, would Kate Bowman and nineteen other people be alive today if I had known that when we went to Terra Nova? I think maybe they would be." She gazed off into the distance. "I wonder how long I'll pay for that mistake."

He smiled gently. "For as long as you choose to. You've put that burden on yourself, Shepard."

Her head tilted to the side as she looked back at him curiously, as if she had no idea what to make of his words. Then she shook it off, taking a quick sip of her tea. "I'm sorry, you don't need to hear me wallow in pathetic self-pity. I should – "

"It's okay." He instinctively reached out and placed a hand over hers, ignoring the resulting spike in his heartbeat. "All evidence to the contrary notwithstanding, I _do_ actually know you're human."

She smiled softly at him then, tinged with chagrin at being called out. "Don't tell anyone, okay? It can just be between you and I."

He chuckled lightly. "It's a deal." As her eyes flitted away he quickly pulled his hand back, and the moment passed.

She cleared her throat as she stood. "Try and get some rest; it looks like we're going to have a busy day tomorrow. I got a call from the Council a few hours ago – they received a high priority message from one of their STG teams. It was too garbled to decipher, but the team was gathering intel on Saren. We're headed to their last known location, a planet in the Sentry Omega – Virmire."

She sighed tiredly as she placed her mug in the washer. "The good news is, the climate there is a lot nicer than it was on Agebinium. We may even get some sun."

He twisted around in his chair to face her. "Do you think this might be the break we've been looking for?"

She shrugged. "It could hold the key to finding the Conduit…it could be another dead end…" She started toward her quarters, then paused and looked back at him, an eyebrow raised slightly and the hint of a smile on her lips.

"…it _could_ be a trap."


	5. Leviathan

**If It Meant Living: Tales**

"**Leviathan"**

* * *

_**November, 2190: Four Years After the End of the Reaper War**_

* * *

_Blackdamp, Asteria: Hekate System, Hades Nexus_

Liara swore she could feel her skin drying and cracking apart as soon as they stepped off the transport and into the spaceport. She hadn't been on a planet this hot outside of a combat mission since the eight months spent on Therum a lifetime ago…and even Therum hadn't been this damn _dry_.

As she glanced over at Shepard walking alongside her, she suddenly wondered why she continued to adhere to the customary Asari style of dress – in this case, literally a dress. The long, thick material was already suffocating her arms and legs. At least she had brought field-wear for the expedition. She was still quite jealous of Shepard, who wore lightweight, flowing beige linen-style pants and a white sleeveless buttoned shirt made of a thin, gauzy material, her hair already pulled up off her neck in a casual twist.

_Dear goddess, Shepard was a beautiful woman._

She was long since over any obsession with Shepard, having put behind her the long nights of yearning, of crafting of schemes to win her love and/or kill her lover that she would never, ever execute on…but she still and would forever have a deep affection for, devotion to, and appreciation of the woman who was, first and foremost, her _friend_.

As they settled into a cab for the short trip to their accommodations, she smiled. "Thank you for coming with me on this little excursion; I know archaeological sites aren't exactly your passion."

Shepard laughed lightly. "Maybe, but you know I can't resist mysterious ancient artifacts – never know when one might propel me headlong into a galaxy-saving adventure, right?"

Liara quirked a grin. "Good point – I'll make sure and let you be the one to touch it first, just in case." She leaned casually against the door. "I guess Kaidan is used to you being gone for days or weeks at a time, what with your Squads and all?"

Shepard shrugged a little. "Yeah…"

"Is something wrong?"

She shook her head slowly. "Nah. He's just working a lot these days; considering that the position of Director of Spectre Operations never existed until now, it's requiring a shocking amount of time and effort…which I guess is why the Council felt the need to create it." She smiled, though it seemed a bit distant. "It's fine. And yes, he's used to me running off on jaunts. No worries."

Of course, Shepard thought, that wasn't entirely true.

They had had a stupid, pointless fight the week before. He had wanted to go to Vancouver for a long weekend; she had insisted that they needed to attend the gala celebrating the addition of Quarians to the Council. It wasn't that she didn't _want_ to go to Vancouver, but she had felt it important for them to demonstrate publicly their support for the move and the new Councilor – an obligation that came with them being well-known and respected. They had argued, saying biting and caustic things they both regretted. In the end, he had relented; they had gone to the gala, had a terrible time and a generally unsatisfactory weekend.

It wasn't that they never fought; on occasion they certainly did – but never about unimportant, mundane details that didn't matter. It had been a weird, disconcerting and uncomfortable experience that she hadn't cared for in the slightest. In truth, for her this trip was less about investigating an artifact than it was about putting a few days and light-years distance between them in the hope it would clear the tension still lingering beneath the surface.

She shared none of that with Liara, willing the troublesome thoughts away as she turned and gazed out the window. The capital city may have a population of some five million, but the colony was thoroughly modest and utilitarian. The climate of Asteria was habitable but not comfortable; the livelihood was agriculture, the proceeds poured not into glimmering buildings or tourist attractions but rather more robust and efficient growing and harvesting equipment.

Blackdamp wasn't _ugly_, she thought, just…unadorned. On the other hand, it was possible that she had gotten entirely too used to the pomp and glitz of the Upper Presidium and Thessia and the rebuilt Bekenstein and Illium, and even the militaristic yet sparkling grace of Cipritine.

Well, maybe this little expedition would wash away at least a bit of the glitter that had built up. As the work of the Research Council became increasingly routine and mundane – at least by Liara's standards – the greatest secrets having been uncovered, reviewed, catalogued, and moved to varying stages of development, Liara had increasingly turned to the mysteries that remained. And in a galaxy this large, there were still many mysteries.

In this case it was rumors of an artifact, ancient but pristine and of unknown origin, discovered on Asteria – a colony shared by humans and Asari – in the agricultural town of Normena. There was nothing especially notable about this rumor above all the other rumors…except the fact that shortly after reporting the artifact's discovery, the colonists had stopped reporting, well, anything. And people acting fucked-up after encountering a mysterious artifact was always of interest to her – so here she was.

... ... ...

The trip to the settlement the next morning was relatively short as such journeys went. The rented vehicle followed "roads" that became increasingly less road-like until eventually they faded into a rut and the vehicle slowed to a stop and settled to the ground.

Before them lay a landscape dotted with idle agriculture machinery and fields that were fading from deep green to rust. On the horizon they could see the hint of a golden glimmer that marked the shore of one of Asteria's oceans; while they covered fully a third of the planet's surface, they somehow managed to contribute negative moisture to the atmosphere.

It was eerily quiet as they exited the vehicle and walked into the farming community. It soon became apparent that was because none of the machinery was running; further, there was no one about. The town square, such as it was, was deserted.

Shepard leaned against the outer wall of the "town hall," crossing one ankle over the other and dropping her chin. She gazed over at Liara through dark lashes.

"So there was this old, _old_, horror vid my boyfriend on Mindoir made me watch called _Children of the Corn_. A married couple accidentally runs over a child just outside a tiny farming town, and they venture into it in search of aid. Felt a lot like this – deserted streets, abandoned equipment. Turned out the children in the town had fallen under the spell of an evil demon, murdered all the adults, and set up their own "rule"; they attacked the couple with farming tools and ultimately killed them. Just for the record – some kid comes at me with a sickle, I'm _throwing_ her ass back to Blackdamp."

Liara's brow furrowed, a deep frown on her face. "Shepard, there are so many things wrong with what you just said, I don't even know where to begin. But mostly…I'm going to be on the lookout for sickle-wielding children…"

Shepard nodded, smiling as she pushed off the wall. "Excellent – just so long as we're on the same page. So where is this artifact?"

"At an excavation site about half a kilometer from here; they were starting construction on a new processing facility when they discovered it."

Shepard gestured down the street. "After you."

They were halfway to the site when they encountered their first person, an Asari of average age and appearance in work attire. When greeted, she simply looked at them curiously. "Why are you here?"

Liara cleared her throat. "Well, we're here to visit the artifact you recently uncovered – "

"You shouldn't do that," the woman replied, then turned back to fiddling slightly with the harvesting mech she stood beside.

"Yes, well…"

Shepard grabbed Liara's elbow and gently pulled her along. "I don't think she's in the mood to converse."

The people became slightly more numerous as they approached the construction site, but they were uniformly passive, even listless. They quickly gave up on trying to engage them in conversation and headed into the site.

As they rounded the corner in the half-constructed building they saw the faint, pulsing glow of an object that in no way fit with the surroundings, but their investigation was cut short by an Asari who was decidedly less passive.

"Why are you here?"

Liara straightened up. "We're here to see the art– "

Shepard took a half-step forward. "The Citadel Council has sent us to view this amazing discovery you have uncovered. I'm sure you're eager to share it with the galaxy so we'll just head on – "

"You can't." The Asari stepped fully into the doorframe, blocking their path.

Shepard's head tilted _just slightly_. "Can't we now?"

"It doesn't want you. It's not ready for you."

_Oh boy. This is going to be good._

Liara's voice echoed in her head: _You have the strangest definition of "good," Shepard._

She jolted slightly. The prototype tele-comm neural implant had only been "installed" three weeks ago; few people had one yet, and Kaidan was making certain it wouldn't negatively affect the L2 before getting one, so she hadn't had much opportunity to practice using it. In fact she had forgotten it was even there – and that Liara was one of the few who did have one. The creators swore that it was possible to finely control exactly what was sent and to whom…but she obviously hadn't figured out how to do that just yet.

She smirked dangerously at the Asari. "All the same, we're ready for _it_, so we'll be going in there now."

"You can't – "

Shepard hit the woman with a _stasis_ that would last for minutes then rapidly walked past her, activating her Omni-tool as she approached the shimmering orb.

Liara was right beside her. "We need to get as many readings as possible before the colonists become agitated." She frowned slightly. "These colonists seem almost…"

"Indoctrinated?" Shepard finished.

Liara tapped rapidly on her Omni-tool. "Perhaps."

"Yeah…though they're almost more like the colonists on Feros that were under the control of the Thorian."

Liara frowned. "These people aren't violent though."

"Neither were they until the Thorian was in clear danger." She filed the thought away for further contemplation and narrowed her eyes slightly at the pulsing, rainbow-luminescent globe hovering above a pedestal. "It looks vaguely like the Prothean artifact we found on Eletania, or for that matter the one that sat on my table on the Normandy – "

"It's not Prothean," Liara stated matter-of-factly.

She cast a sideward gaze at Liara. "Why not?"

"Because it isn't. I could bore you with highly technical reasons why it isn't – or you could just trust me. Whatever it is, it isn't Prothean."

She nodded in acceptance. "Okay. Is it Reaper? They had a thing for orbs, too."

"No…"

"That wasn't as convincing."

Liara's head shook slightly. "It isn't Reaper…exactly. Yet…"

The Asari in the doorway started twitching. "We should go. Do you have what you need?"

Liara glanced over at her, an eyebrow raised. "Without taking it with us? Yes. But…aren't you going to touch it?"

She grimaced, eyeing the orb suspiciously. "Okay, but if I pass out you're carrying me back to the vehicle…"

Liara grinned. "I'll just float you back."

"Right." She stepped forward, arm outstretched. Her fingertips slowly, carefully, made contact with the orb…and continued on through it, until her entire hand was _inside_ the translucent object. "It's almost like it's not there…vague ripples on my skin and…" she frowned "…it's cold, almost like – "

The orb pulsed harshly, a bright gold light flaring outward then vanishing.

She yanked her hand away. "Now we _really_ need to go."

Liara nodded, and they turned and hurried out past the twitching Asari. As they stepped outside, they could see a large number of colonists coming toward them from the far fields. They weren't running, not quite, but their movement was quite deliberate – and while they weren't wielding sickles, they _were_ wielding energy blades.

She sighed heavily. "_Fuck_…I really don't want to kill all these people…"

Liara shot a sideways glance at her. "Run?"

"Run."

They took off sprinting, weaving to avoid the few people that had been in town and now were hurrying in their direction, reached the vehicle untouched, and sped away.

As soon as the settlement passed from view Shepard was on her comm. "This is Systems Alliance Admiral Graceyn Shepard, Council Spectre Authorization Echo-Seven-Three-Alpha-One. Put me through to the Governor." There was a pause of several seconds. "Yes. I need you to implement a quarantine perimeter two kilometers outside Normena. No one goes in or out until the Council can send in a team…yes, I fully realize this is a drastic action that will require a significant mobilization effort. I suggest you get started."

She cut the link, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. "Politicians…" Her fingers flew over her Omni-tool for a few seconds. "EDI? I'm uploading the data from this artifact on Asteria; analyze it and put together a summary for the Council, I'm going to – "

"Curious."

A few years ago it had been a little odd to hear EDI's voice in the air while in a speeding vehicle halfway across the galaxy from the Citadel, but she was long since used to it. "What's curious?"

"There was a murder on the Citadel last week, a respected but somewhat eccentric scientist. He was researching the Leviathan of Dis."

"The Leviathan of Dis was a dead Reaper, I could have told him that."

"I believe he was aware of that fact; he was more interested in what killed it."

She shrugged slightly. "That's a good question I suppose, but it would hardly be shocking if previous cycles managed to kill one or two Reapers."

"True. However, he seemed to believe it was killed by another Reaper."

Her eyes narrowed. "Okay…that actually _is_ quite interesting, but I'm not sure I see the connection…"

"The C-Sec catalogue of the contents of his lab includes an object matching the description of the artifact you just visited."

... ... ...

_Presidium, The Citadel: Widow System, Serpent Nebula_

Shepard strolled leisurely along the patio outside Dr. Garret Bryson's lab. He had a beautiful garden, a spectacular view of Presidium Lake, and by the looks of it a state-of-the-art lab…she wondered where he had acquired the funding for it all. Research into ancient mysteries wasn't exactly the most lucrative profession. Even Liara's money – before she became an information broker – had come from Benezia. Perhaps –

Her reverie was interrupted as a cab dropped down and settled just above the ground. She thought it was touching and heartwarming how EDI still preferred to interact with others, especially those close to her, using her physical body. Even more so here on the Citadel, where she permeated every conduit and every circuit.

She smiled as EDI stepped out and walked over. "New haircut?"

EDI tucked her now sleek and straight golden locks behind her ear self-consciously. "I like experimenting."

"I bet Joker likes that you like experimenting, too. How's he doing? I haven't seen him in a little while."

EDI frowned as they approached the door. "Jeff is…grumpy. He received the new bone weaves two weeks ago. It hurt, as he put it, 'like a motherfucker on red sand.' He has another week before he can take off the braces and explore his new mobility. He is…" she frowned in consternation "…quite frankly, he's driving me insane. I'm always worrying that having the power to reach every corner of the galaxy will drive me insane – but instead it's going to be one thirty-five year old recalcitrant formerly-crippled Human male."

Shepard burst out laughing, leaning against the wall for support. "Hang in there, EDI. Men are quite capable of driving us all insane, but they're worth the risk."

EDI nodded, a slight grin on her lips. "Yes, Shepard, I know they are. But my goodness…"

"My goodness indeed…" Shepard gazed around in wonder as they entered the lab.

It was filled – every corner, every nook – with artifacts, scientific equipment, terminal screens. Datapads littered every flat surface…and there were actually pieces of _paper_ stuck haphazardly to several walls. An interactive galaxy map projection that rivaled the Normandy's dominated the room to the right. Stairs led up to the left, and she could just make out a bed on the upper landing…so he slept here, too. Or rather, _had_ slept here.

Her gaze fell to a collection of artifacts behind a glass barrier along the far wall. She quickly walked over to it, staring at the shimmering orb with a rainbow of colors rippling across it. "It's the same as the one on Asteria…same size, same appearance." She frowned in concern. "How long has this been on the Citadel?"

"Dr. Bryson's files indicate that he received it from one of his co-workers three weeks, two days ago."

"We need to get this thing shielded before it turns the entire population of the Citadel into zombies."

EDI's head tilted slightly, hair falling off her shoulder and down her back. "Shepard, it does not appear to be emitting any sort of energy that could _be_ shielded."

Shepard half-turned around in surprise. "Really?"

"All scans return negative."

"Huh. Well, it sure as hell emits _something_. Shield it with whatever we use for Reaper artifacts for now."

"Very well. Technicians will arrive with the necessary equipment in twenty minutes."

Shepard nodded, wandering over to the desk against the wall. "So he was murdered by his assistant?"

"Yes. The man was found sitting passively by the body, gun still in his hand, claiming no recollection of the event."

"Hmm…" She activated the terminal. "What's his passcode?"

"Annie427."

She entered the code, and started reading.

... ... ...

"So he believed another Reaper killed the Leviathan of Dis, in part because ancient, primitive drawings were found on Jartar depicting organics worshipping a Reaper-like creature. He was studying this artifact because it came from some ruins alongside nearly identical drawings of a Reaper-like creature – on Namakli, clear across the galaxy from Jartar."

Anderson frowned as he chewed on a bite of prime rib, washing it down with _sake_ before responding. "I guess it's not inconceivable that primitive species in earlier cycles caught sight of Reapers, and perhaps thought them gods…though the possible connection with this artifact is interesting."

Shepard picked at her salad distractedly. "It gets better. His daughter, Dr. Ann Bryson, was working closely with him on this research. She left two weeks ago to go check out reports of another artifact being discovered on Watson. It's possible – "

Anderson's fork hit his plate as he stared at her. "Shepard, we lost contact with Watson two days ago."

She quirked an eyebrow speculatively. "The whole colony? Nearly four million people live there…"

"It gets worse. The Alliance sent a communications team to investigate, expecting to find some blown comm buoys. Five hours ago their frigate was shot down – _from_ Watson. The Admiralty Board is in emergency session right now trying to figure out how to respond."

She frowned deeply, mind racing. "There hasn't been any recent political unrest, has there?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Peaceful, successful colony."

"Then if – " Her Omni-tool buzzed. She looked down – and her frown deepened even further. "The colonists on Asteria overran the quarantine perimeter before the Asari military squad could get there…killed the local law enforcement."

He exhaled sharply. "What the hell is going on with these artifacts?"

Her head jerked up to meet his gaze. "Get me on the comm with the Admiralty Board. They can send me."

"Shepard, what do you think – "

"The Normandy can get in undetected. I'll take a squad. We probably can't resolve whatever is going on there, but we can find out what it is – and I need Ann Bryson."

... ... ...

_Tayseri Ward, The Citadel_

Shepard sat in the middle of the couch, leaning forward intently over at least a dozen datapads scattered across the table in front of her. Though these days she could pull up any file she needed on a single datapad, right now she needed to be able to see _all_ the files at once. She was staring at three of them, chin resting in her palm and hand absently working at her mouth; she didn't even hear the door open.

"Hey, welcome home."

She jerked, startled, then quickly stood and met Kaidan halfway. Relieved to see him smiling, she pulled him close. She kissed him fiercely – passionately – losing herself in the warmth of his skin and the roughness of his lips against hers. After a moment of rather enjoying himself, he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching her face curiously. "Hi to you, too. What's going on?"

She smiled, turning away and motioning him over to the couch. "Trouble. We've lost two colonies to hostile forces and a third is under siege. It all seems to be tied to these artifacts. They exert some sort of mind control over anyone in close proximity, just like the Reaper artifacts did. There are a lot of similarities."

He frowned as he sat down beside her. "Wait – what colonies?"

"Watson and Arvuna; Asteria is under siege – the colonists broke through the quarantine I had put up. The artifacts are turning their thralls violent, at least if the artifact is threatened in some way."

His brow furrowed. "So these artifacts are on Watson and Arvuna, too?"

She was scanning several datapads, looking for something. "On Watson, we think; I don't know about Arvuna."

"Aren't you maybe jumping to conclusions, then? These could be unrelated events that have nothing to do with this artifact."

She shook her head as she read over a file. "You haven't seen one of these things, haven't felt it. It's definitely – "

He exhaled harshly. "You touched it."

She nodded distractedly, scrolling through the text.

"You touched _another_ alien artifact…just to see what would happen?"

She glanced over at him, smiling reassuringly. "It was fine. Liara was there if anything happened."

"Oh, well then…" He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, feeling the beginnings of a migraine pressing against his skull. Medical advances were coming fast and furious now, but thus far none of them held a cure for a highly temperamental biotic implant. "Did you get any visions from it?"

"No, it didn't react – not exactly. It _did_ send the colonists after us then…" She grabbed another datapad. "Anyway, I'm headed to Watson in the morning with a squad. Can you come with?"

He stood up, pacing slowly in front of the table. "Why are you going to Watson? If the whole colony is overrun, isn't this a job for the regular military?"

"No. These artifacts are controlling people – but _something_ is controlling these artifacts. One of the scientists who's been studying them and their connection to the Leviathan of Dis and the Reapers is on Watson; I need to get her out and find out what she knows – "

"The Reapers? What do they have to do with this besides mind control being involved?"

She grumbled in frustration. "It's complicated; there's all this research – " she gestured to the mess of datapads " – but primitive drawings of Reapers are tied to the artifacts; they seem to be intimately associated with – "

Kaidan ran a hand raggedly down his face. "Shepard, the Reapers are _gone_."

She gazed up at him curiously, then stood as well. "What if they're not? What if one or two or ten escaped the signal somehow? _Something_ is sure as hell out there and it's taking over colonies."

He sighed wearily. "Why can't you just…_stop_? Just for a little while? Do you always have to be chasing after the next danger, the next chance to test whether you're immortal or whether you'll die just like the rest of us?"

She jerked slightly, taken aback by the tone in his voice. Then her eyebrows arched in challenge. "And you don't face that same risk every time you go out on a mission?"

"That's not the point. Is anything ever going to be enough for you? Can you ever be satisfied, content? _What is it you're chasing?_"

She shrugged, palms open as if to say _isn't it obvious?_ "Making a difference. Saving people. New challenges. Adventure. Life." She frowned darkly. "Kaidan, why is this suddenly a problem? What is this about – because it isn't about the Reapers."

He stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the twinkling lights of the Ward arms, trying to ignore the painful throbbing in his temples. They had a good life – a _great_ life. A beautiful apartment, and two more on Earth and Intai'sei. Powerful jobs, the best tech and newest toys. Access to virtually anything in the galaxy they wanted. What was he doing? What was _he _chasing?

His voice was flat. "I guess I'd hoped that I – that we, us – could be enough. Enough to make you happy. But – "

"Oh, don't you _dare_ do that. You knew what you were getting when you signed up; you've always known what I was about."

He spun around incredulously. "When I _signed up_? What, do you think this relationship is some kind of tour of duty, that I'll do my twenty then muster out? Or you will?"

She glared at him. "Goddammit, that's not what I meant and you know it."

He huffed a bitter laugh. "Do I? You know what? Just go. Go chase your boogeymen. Have fun. Get your rocks off saving the day."

"You think it makes me _happy_ when planets are in peril? When there's some big evil out there?"

His eyes met hers. "Yes, I think maybe it does."

She stared at him a moment, throat working silently. When she finally spoke her voice was low and dark. "So you aren't coming."

"No, Shepard, I'm not coming. I'm not your sidekick. Besides, I've got my first Spectre candidate to evaluate, and I need to go out on a few missions with him. I'm not sure how much I'll be around for the next few weeks…maybe longer."

She flinched, eyes flaring, jaw visibly clenching and unclenching beneath her skin. "I see." She looked around the room for a few seconds as if searching for…something…then spun to the door. "I have arrangements to make. Don't wait up."

He exhaled heavily, running a hand raggedly through his hair. "Hold on, Grace– "

But the door had already closed behind her. If doors could still slam, this one would have rattled the windows.

He leaned against the wall, shoulders sagging and temples throbbing. He tried to figure out how things had gone so badly sideways so quickly…

She made it all the way to the elevator before punching the wall in pent-up frustration, flaring brightly as she stalked into the elevator and frightening the Salarian occupant so much that he fled.

When Kaidan woke the next morning, still groggy from the drugs that knocked him out through the worst of a migraine, he found a crumpled blanket on the couch and her bag missing. She had come and gone while he had slept.

He reached to his wrist to comm her…then stopped. He needed to figure out what he was going to say first – and right now he had no idea what that was.

... ... ...

_Docking Bay A-17, The Citadel_

Shepard rolled her eyes dramatically as she walked up the docking bay ramp. Liara leaned against the railing, a small bag on the floor beside her.

"I take it you're coming to Watson?"

Liara nodded resolutely. "Absolutely. I can't help but feel this entire thing is my responsibility, and I intend to see it through to the end."

They fell into an easy, familiar stride as they turned toward the Normandy. "It's not, you know – hell, if it weren't for you we probably wouldn't even know what was going on until it was out of control."

"Still…I need to know what _is_ going on, truly. You know me, another mystery to solve."

"Indeed. Well, I'm glad to have you."

Once on board, she checked in with Joker – and found him spinning in the pilot's chair, grumbling about his leg braces. She quickly excused herself and went down to the Shuttle Bay, where the team had already gathered and was prepping their gear.

She hopped up onto the requisitions table, legs swinging in the air. "I think a couple of introductions are in order. This is Dr. Liara T'Soni, head of the Research Council and expert in, well, everything. Liara, meet Commander Keenon'Daal vas Idenna of the 3rd Wing, Heavy Fleet – engineer and tech specialist extraordinaire."

Liara dipped her head in greeting. "The Idenna is an honorable and storied ship. It's my pleasure to meet you." The Quarian man smiled at her in return, presumably sincerely – she was still getting used to _seeing_ unmasked Quarian faces, much less deciphering their visual cues. Regardless, he was quite striking. The deep lavender skin and luminescent, curved eyes seemed to shimmer with life and mystery.

Shepard gestured to the next person in the informal semi-circle, a tall Turian female. "Lieutenant Litha Palamin – _ostensibly_ of the Turian 43rd Marine Division but covertly a member of Blackwatch – infiltration and sabotage specialist. She worked with Garrus before the Reaper War, came highly recommended, and hasn't disappointed."

Liara smiled in appreciation. "Anyone whom Garrus respects must be quite talented indeed."

The woman smirked, or at least the closest Turian approximation of one. "That or I annoyed him into submission."

Shepard nodded to the last unfamiliar face. "Lieutenant Timah Naik of the 103rd Marines – heavy assault and munitions." Her eyes cut over sideways. "Saved James' ass and half his Delta Team on Gei Hinnom a few years back during the ruins conflicts, so he's here until James finds a way to return the favor – and because he rocks with a rocket launcher."

Liara's brow furrowed, as mystified as ever by Humanity's complicated social and military customs. Finally she plastered on a polite smile. "It's nice to meet you." The dark-skinned, serious young man merely nodded briefly then returned to cleaning the assault rifle in his hands.

"Everyone else you know – Commander Vega, EDI…" Though EDI wasn't actually _in_ the ship any longer, she was fully present in physical form. The smile broke more broadly across her face. "…Lieutenant Cortez…Steve, you made it."

He chuckled lightly from his position over at the armory, where he had been rapidly yet meticulously checking the weapons in the locker. "Yes, ma'am. I happened to be at Arcturus, was scheduled to head out for a run with the _Agamemnon_ – but everyone knows your request overrides all prior orders."

"Damn straight it does. Glad you're here." She slid off the table and began pacing deliberately. "So here's the deal. We're headed to Watson. The colony has gone offline and should be considered hostile. We have reason to believe there is an artifact in the area we're going that is controlling at least some portion of the colonists."

Litha let out a slight chuckle, a resonant flange echoing beneath it. "Another mind-controlling alien artifact? I love those…"

Shepard shot a smirk in her direction. "You and me both. Our primary objective is the retrieval of a human female by the name of Dr. Ann Bryson; I've included a recent photo in the mission file. She doesn't know we're coming, as communications with Watson are down, but hopefully she is both not under the influence of the artifact and amenable to our arrival. Our secondary objective is the determination of the reason for Watson being both offline and exhibiting hostile intent toward Alliance…overtures."

Her voice dropped measurably in both tenor and tone. "There's a lot we don't know going in. This is a rapidly developing situation, and we're now on the front line of it. My hope is to kill as few people as possible, because the enemies we will face will not be of their own making. That being said, don't sacrifice yourself for someone who may not know what they are doing but is actively trying to kill you."

She gazed around the circle. "Watson is a couple of jumps away but not far from the Relay, so we'll be there in about three hours. Do whatever you need to get ready and let me know if you need anything. Dismissed."

She went over to the armory and pulled out the Valiant rifle, laying it out on the table and beginning to clean it. It wasn't that it _needed_ cleaning – but it was a comfortable routine, and one that her hands could do without input from her brain, which was far too busy with other matters.

She fell into the routine, more soothing than any transcendental meditation – unlatch, separate, check, clean, polish. Unlatch, separate, check, clean, polish.

After some time James appeared beside her, pulling out his shotgun-du-jour and stripping it down. "So no Alenko this time?" he asked idly.

"No." Her hand slipped on the trigger mechanism, causing a jarring noise and painfully jamming her index finger.

"Trouble in paradise?"

She carefully disassembled the intricate pieces of the firing chamber, ignoring the throbbing in her hand. Her voice was low and even. "James, I'm going to say this once and only once, so listen carefully. _Drop it_."

The steel in her voice took him by surprise. He had of course heard it before – but in far darker, more desperate times. He didn't know why it was there now but it didn't really matter. He knew what it meant.

He nodded. "Okay. No problem."

She focused on the Valiant lying in pieces on the table. _Unlatch, separate, check, clean, polish._

_Reassemble._

... ... ...

_Watson: Skepsis System, Sigurd's Cradle_

Shepard climbed into the UT-48B Kodiak shuttle and leaned into the cockpit. "Okay, Lieutenant, we are stealth all the way here. Depending on just _how_ hostile the population is, we may still come under fire once they have a visual on us."

Steve nodded sharply. "Not a problem. I'll find some cover."

She turned and headed to the back of the shuttle as they lifted up and out of the Normandy's shuttle bay. "James, what can you tell us about the target area?"

He stood up, grabbing the overhead bar for stability. "When I was stationed here they were just starting to rebuild that area after the Batarians blew it up. I seem to recall you know something about that, Shepard."

She rolled her eyes in his general direction, which he ignored. "Not enough time for Watson's overeager plants to take over, so it was pretty barren – dirt and rubble, mostly. But the area's probably been developed a good bit more now, so we're looking at your basic light-industrial set up – warehouses, low-rise office buildings, etc. It's on the opposite side of the colony from the residential district, so there shouldn't be a lot of children playing in the streets or anything."

Shepard nodded. "Got it. Again, everybody check your targets, but be on guard. Our limited experience with these artifacts indicates that people under one's influence may appear strange or off-kilter, but are largely passive – until the artifact is threatened. Which we are about to do." She looked over her shoulder. "Steve, drop us a half-kilometer past the construction site, then find a nearby quiet place to hide."

She turned back to the team. "Everybody ready?" At their nods she checked her weapons a final time and moved toward the door.

"You are a go, Admiral."

* * *

_To Be Continued_


	6. Leviathan, Part II

**If It Meant Living: Tales**

**"Leviathan, Part II"**

* * *

_Watson: Skepsis System, Sigurd's Cradle_

"You are a go, Admiral."

The shuttle door opened and she jumped to the ground. Their immediate surroundings were just as James had described – uneven dirt with occasional piles of gathered rubble. To their left in the distance were the outlines of several low- and mid-rise buildings. The sky was overcast; given the noticeable chill in the air, it threatened sleet or snow.

"Keenon?"

"No unusual readings, ma'am. Commercial communications do seem abnormally low…no news reports about a coup or military takeover – nothing at all. No declarations of martial law or a state of emergency."

"Okay. Keep monitoring the channels for any alerts." She hit her comm and called up Bryson's contact data that had been recovered from her father's lab. "Dr. Bryson, do you read me? This is Admiral Shepard. I've come – "

There was garbled static, then a hushed female voice. "I read you…need to…they're everywhere…I can't…"

"Ann, where are you? We can get to you, but I need a location."

"…basement…locked in…tried to hide…coming for…" The communication broke up into static.

Her eyebrows raised as her eyes rolled in an exaggerated expression of mock annoyance. "_Okay_ – sounds like we will have hostiles. The construction site shouldn't have a basement yet, so she must be in one of the nearby buildings." Then her expression hardened in a way that let you know that she had _never_ been kidding. "James, you've got point."

They were rather out in the open, so they moved quickly to the first building that could provide some cover. Shepard peeked in the window along the back wall. Office workers could be seen working at terminals, moving deliberately down the hall, and otherwise going about their business. It all looked normal – which made it immediately suspicious.

They moved along the building's wall to the north, still skirting the edge of the commercial area. The construction site was to the west though – eventually, they were going to have to move in.

"Litha, I need eyes on the street."

"You got it." Litha hurried up the alley, shimmering out of existence as her stealth activated. A moment later she came over the comm. "I've got minimal activity; a couple of people traversing the streets, but nothing of note going on. Just another day in Mayberry."

"How the hell do you know about _Mayberry_?"

There was a brief pause. "_Everyone_ knows about Mayberry, Admiral."

"_Right_…hold there, we'll be to you in a minute. She switched channels, not missing a beat. "Ann, do you read me? I _need_ to know what building you're in. Can you tell me anything?"

There was nothing but static, and she was about to cut the connection again when Ann's muffled voice broke through. "…east…Saron…lication…"

"EDI?"

"There is a Sarona Applications office in a building southeast from the construction site."

Shepard grinned. "Excellent. Let's go."

They moved down the alley; after a quick check of the street they stepped out, trying not to look like the heavily-armed military squad they quite clearly were. Halfway down the block, as they were about to pass the doors to a warehouse, those doors opened and a man walked out. He started to head down the street, then suddenly stopped and turned to them.

"You shouldn't be here."

Shepard smiled politely. "We're just running a training exercise; we'll be on our way."

The man's eyes widened and glazed over. "You are the_ Anomaly_. You shouldn't be here. It doesn't want you. It isn't ready for you."

All pretense of innocence gone, Shepard's eyes narrowed dangerously. "_What_ isn't ready for me?"

Suddenly the man pulled out a knife from his pocket and pounced toward her – only to be _thrown_ into the wall by Liara. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Shepard didn't waste any time. "Secret's out. Let's _move_."

As they started jogging quickly across the street and toward the Sarona building, the doors to every building on the block began opening and people pouring out. They rounded the corner and came face-to-face with a rapidly-forming mob. Men and women in business suits and blue-collar uniforms and construction garb all advanced on them, wielding knifes or energy blades or guns or whatever they had picked up.

"Oh, that's just _great_!" She sighed dramatically. "Non-lethal force if you can."

Humans in non-shielded, non-armored attire weren't difficult to kill – it was much harder _not_ to kill them. Shepard immediately threw a stun grenade into the middle of the crowd, collapsing the core of the mob and sending the rest into momentary disarray. Kennon's defense drones came out set to 'stun' and surrounded the team; EDI imaged decoys of herself in every direction to distract some of the colonists; Liara put those that hadn't been thrown clear into _stasis_ with lightning speed.

James grumbled as they moved forward. "Shepard, Timah and I don't _have_ anything that won't kill them…"

She threw a light _shockwave_ to the right as four colonists advanced. "If they get close enough for the shotgun…punch them. I've seen you hit – it should be plenty to knock them out. If it isn't…shoot them."

"Alright…"

Timah reached around into his hip pack. "Actually, I _do_ have something." His hand came back with what looked like an ordinary grenade, which he then lobbed in a long, perfect spiral through the air. It landed near the back of the colonists trailing behind them in a cloud of smoke.

"Da-amn. Nice throw, Lieutenant."

He gave Shepard a half-smile. "Quarterback in university. The grenade packs a nervous system paralyzer; they should be out for about half an hour. Didn't want us to get caught in the effect, though."

Even after the grenade, the colonists were a relentless force, those that weren't knocked-out coming at them again and again. Their numbers did slowly thin as more and more fell from mostly non-lethal attacks – then more appeared, coming up the road that sloped down and to the left into the heart of the commercial district. Apparently the call had gone out to the _entire damn colony_.

"We're not planning on going that way – Timah, toss some more of those neuro-grenades into that crowd."

"Yes, ma'am – how many?"

She frowned at the throng of colonists, most of them in business attire and looking like a caricature of a zombie vid as they wielded their makeshift weapons. "All of them."

"You got it." He tossed the grenades – four in all – perfectly placed equidistant from one another in the crowd, and the colonists disappeared in a thick fog of smoke.

As they reached the Sarona building, Shepard scanned the perimeter. "Okay – Liara, EDI, with me. Everyone else, hold this door." She refreshed her _barrier_ and stepped inside.

The interior appeared deserted; the lights were on, terminals were active, but work had been abandoned – the employees likely already part of the zombie horde they had been fighting.

EDI already had the floor layout mapped. "The stairs are down the central hallway, second left."

They moved quickly, checking the corners then hurrying down the stairs. The basement was a largely open area with small rooms built into the outer walls.

"Dr. Bryson, can you hear me? It's Shepard, I'm here to get you out."

Nothing. They began clearing the rooms left to right. All the doors were locked; they divided the hacking duties and moved quickly through the basement.

Shepard hacked a door two-thirds of the way down the right wall; it opened to reveal a dark-haired woman huddled in the corner, pistol shakily pointed at the door.

Shepard raised her hands calmly. "It's okay, Ann. You're safe now. I promise."

The pistol slowly lowered…then clattered to the floor. Shepard knelt down beside the woman. "Are you hurt? We can help you."

Ann shook her head. "Scratches is all. One of them tried to…claw my eyes out." She swallowed hard. "I'm sorry…I'll be fine."

"How long have you been in here?"

She looked up to meet Shepard's gaze with her own haunted one. "Four days. I was studying the artifact and…I knew the people around here had been acting strangely, but they seemed harmless. I finally decided it was safe to touch the artifact – it wasn't giving off any signals that I could measure; it seemed inert. So I reached out, touched it, and…it was like it knew immediately I was a threat. Suddenly there was this woman behind me telling me I shouldn't have come; when I tried to leave she attacked me."

She gulped in a deep breath. "I ran. People started chasing me; I went in another building, then out the back and in here the back way; I managed to get down the stairs before anyone saw me."

"You did a very brave and very smart thing, Ann." Shepard smiled sadly. "There's a lot I'd like to talk to you about – but first I need to tell you something. I'm terribly sorry, Ann, but…your father is dead. He – "

"I know." Her chin dropped. "I received the notification two days before all this happened. I was going to leave the next day, but…I knew how important this research was to him, so I tried to finish first. Then everything went to hell."

"Okay." Shepard hit her comm. "How're we doing out there, guys?"

James responded. "Just peachy. Got some new friends, but they're going to sleep now."

She looked back at Ann. "I know I'm asking a lot of you – but do you know what is powering the artifacts? What is doing this?"

Ann placed a hand on the wall and slowly stood. "We call it 'Leviathan,' though that's just because we were put on its trail through the Leviathan of Dis. We think – my father thought, and I agree – that it's a Reaper or something like a Reaper. I'm using the singular, but we don't know how many there could be."

She straightened her jacket and squared her shoulders, imposing a degree of composure on herself. "We think one of them killed the Leviathan of Dis nearly a billion years ago, which may mean it – they – were rebels or a splinter faction. That may be why they didn't die at the end of the War – they were elsewhere, or had altered themselves or…I don't know. But they're obviously here now."

Shepard glanced back at the door, feeling the pressure of dwindling time. "I'd like your help finding them, Ann. If you'll come with me, we'll get you out of here and back to the Citadel. Maybe you can use your father's research to help us track this thing or things down."

"Shepard?" She turned around at EDI's inquiry.

"I have been studying the brain waves of the colonists that attacked us."

She smirked fondly. "Of course you have."

"Yes. While the artifacts we have studied were not emitting any measurable energy, they also were not actively controlling people. These colonists are currently receiving active signals from the artifact – likely the impetus for their attacks. The signal appears to be similar to quantum entanglement communications – certain neurons in the colonists' brains are interacting with particles from the artifact. The method of transmission shares some characteristics with our new tele-comm device."

"Not a lot of time, EDI – where are you going with this?"

EDI smiled. "I believe I may be able to track the source of the signal."

"I thought the source was the artifact?"

"Yes, but the artifact is only a transmitter. The signal is originating elsewhere."

Shepard's eyes lit up. "What do you need?"

"To measure the signal from close proximity to the artifact. This far away there is too much interference from the signal's interactions with the colonists."

"_Shit_…alright. Ann, maybe you should stay here while we go across the street, it could be – "

Ann's head shook vigorously. "No. I don't want to spend another second in this dungeon."

"Okay…EDI, can you manage a portable shield for Ann?"

"One moment…here." She "printed" a small disk from her Omni-tool and handed it to Shepard, who attached it to Ann's clothes at the small of her back. There was a faint crackle as it activated.

"That should protect you from any stray bullets or attacks. Just stay behind one of us, and we'll protect you."

Ann nodded quickly. "Don't worry. I'm not looking to be a hero."

Shepard hit her comm. "James, we're on our way out. We're going to need to get to the artifact."

"_Get to the_…alright, fine, sure thing, no problem."

They went up the stairs and were at the door in thirty seconds. Shepard stepped out, gazing around at all the bodies strewn up and down the street.

"Don't worry, they're just unconscious. Most of them, anyway. Probably." James shrugged mildly.

"Damn nice job, guys." She looked across the street to the construction site. Several dozen colonists had gathered around the entrance, obviously protecting the artifact.

Kennon glanced over at her. "Admiral, I've been making some modifications to the drones – I should be able to set one to emit a powerful stun pulse over a wider area. If I send it over there into the middle of them, it should knock most of them out for several minutes. Not as long as one of Naik's grenades, but hopefully long enough."

She patted his shoulder. "That sounds like an _excellent_ idea. Do it. Ann, where exactly is the artifact?"

"In the back corner, to the left."

"Okay. Here we go."

The seemingly never-ending flow of colonists continued toward them from the street in both directions, those coming from the left stepping around the large clump of unconscious people without stopping to check on them. Shepard threw out her last stun grenade to the left while Liara was _lifting_ the front line on the right. Keenon's drone reached the wall of colonists in front of the site; there was an electric flash and they fell as one to the ground.

They hurried over the slumped bodies and into the partially-constructed building, crouching under support beams and around half-finished walls. As they turned the last corner Shepard came face to face with a colonist.

"You can't – "

She punched the man hard in the nose; he collapsed to the floor. "Yes, I can."

The artifact hovered above the ground, pulsing rapidly, glowing far more brightly than the one on Asteria or in Bryson's lab.

EDI stepped up close to it. "Tracing."

Ann stared at it curiously, her head tilting slightly. "I can hear it…"

Shepard touched her shoulder. "Ann, are you okay?"

"Yes, I just…it's whispering…" She spun around, eyes wide and unblinking. _"You are the Anomaly. You will not interfere. Turn back now."_

Shepard stared into eyes that were no longer Ann's. "I won't interfere with _what_? What are you planning?"

"_Turn back now."_

Ann collapsed to the floor.

"EDI…"

"I have it."

Shepard hit her comm as she checked Ann's vitals. "Steve, we need a pickup at my coordinates. We've got hostiles but they don't have heavy weapons. We'll meet you on the street."

"Understood. ETA three minutes."

Timah squatted down beside her. "I'll carry her."

"Okay. Thank you." She smiled gratefully and stood, glancing up at the sky as a cold sleet began to fall through the open rafters of the building. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

... ... ...

_Normandy SR-2: Skepsis System, Sigurd's Cradle_

"An ocean world?" Shepard leaned against the glass wall of the conference room, crossing her arms over her chest as she frowned at EDI.

"Yes. 2181 Despoina was discovered by exploratory probes shortly before the Reaper War; obviously, further investigation was put on hold. Recent cursory examinations indicate that its oceans are not dissimilar to Earth's; the atmosphere is breathable, though the nitrogen content is somewhat higher than is ideal."

She reached up and rubbed her temples wearily. The rush of the mission over, the weight of everything else was rapidly shoving its way back in. "And it's in this cluster, so…"

"The system is some distance away and lacks a Mass Relay; we should arrive in approximately six hours."

She nodded slowly, staring out the window at the stars speeding by. "How's Ann?"

"She's awake and alert; the effects of the artifact appear not to reach this far. Dr. Samuels is checking her over for any lingering effects."

"Good…" She frowned; she hadn't even had time to check. "Karin isn't here?"

"Dr. Chakwas is on Earth treating victims of the San Angeles earthquake and was unable to make it."

Her frown deepened. "When was there an earthquake?"

EDI's head tilted slightly. "Two days ago. Shepard, are you alright?"

She forced a smile. "I'm fine; I just didn't get much sleep last night. In fact, I'm going to try to get some now. Schedule a briefing for five hours from now; we'll figure out how we're going to deal with this 'Leviathan' then."

Only once she was upstairs in her old and still occasional quarters did she check her Omni-tool for messages. There were several – but none from him. No 'I'm sorry for what I said on the Citadel,' not even a 'Comm me when you get a minute so we can talk.'

She leaned against the dull glass of the fish tank. It had been emptied, deemed too difficult to maintain with the inconsistent schedule of the Normandy. They had a small fish tank in their apartment on the Citadel; it had an auto-feeder and auto-cleaner for those frequent times when they were both absent for days or even weeks. She didn't understand why that couldn't work here too…

With anyone other than Kaidan, things could usually be fixed with a dazzling smile, a witty reply, or a piercing stare – but he saw straight through all those and every other trick she knew. He always had.

She'd never been in a relationship anywhere close to this long before, even if you didn't count all the fits and starts and missing years. She hadn't realized it could be this _hard_. _You're going along, happy and carefree and everything's wonderful – then all of the sudden, one day, it isn't._

She didn't know what he wanted from her, or whether she could give it to him. Though she had flared in anger the night before and lashed out, if there was any way, she _would_. But at the moment she only knew that she missed him terribly.

She thought about comming him anyway…but she couldn't afford another argument right now. Instead she crashed wearily onto the bed, not bothering to take off anything but her shoes.

She grabbed the pillow next to her and wrapped her arms around it. It had been more than two months since he had last been on the Normandy with her; they had been sent to rescue employees of Sirta Foundation being held hostage by a group of anti-synthetic extremists. She hugged the pillow close to her chest; she could swear it still smelled like him…

"_I didn't get the chance to tell you before the mission, we were in such a hurry – but I received an interesting offer right before we left."_

"_Oh yeah…?" Her voice trailed off as her fingers twirled around the hair running down the center of his chest, her lips grazing over the dark trail on their way to his right pectoral muscle._

"_Yeah, it, um…" he sucked in a breath as her tongue made delicate contact with a nipple "…was from Anderson. The Council has decided they need someone to oversee the Spectres, and…they're offering me the job. It would be a lot of responsibility, and would probably mean I'd be spending a lot more time on the Citadel, but…_Jesus_…" He shuddered as she kissed her way down his stomach. _

_He reached down and ran his fingers through her hair as it fell across his chest. "Are you even listening?"_

"_Hmm…" Her tongue circled around a spot just below his ribcage. "I'm _trying_ to…but this muscle here quivers every time I do _this…_" her tongue circled again "…and I need to figure out why…" _

_His eyelids fluttered at the sensation; he was rapidly losing what meager focus he had. "I'm fairly certain it's because you're doing _that_…before you do it again and I lose my mind, what do you think?"_

_She blew lightly on the damp skin in lieu of licking it, sending a shiver down his chest and straight to his groin. "I think you'd be very, very good at it…" her hand drifted down along his hip "…and I definitely wouldn't want anyone else as a boss…"_

_A groan escaped from the back of his throat as her hand found its target. "Then as my first semi-official act as your boss, I'm ordering you to get up here, right now." _

_Not willing to wait for her to comply, he reached under her shoulder and pulled her up along his chest before grabbing the back of her head and crushing his mouth against hers._

... ... ...

Shepard hurried into the conference room, two minutes late but moderately refreshed. Everyone was already assembled, munching on whatever food they had been able to scrounge up. This had been an unscheduled emergency run for the Normandy and the stocks were a little thin – no cook, no comm officer, a skeleton crew, only one shuttle, and a half-empty refrigerator.

She leaned against the back wall, crossing one ankle over the other, and flicked on the screen at the end of the table. "We've launched a probe into Despoina's atmosphere to try to narrow down Leviathan's location. But _this_ is what we're looking at."

The screen filled with images of…ocean. Nothing but ocean, dotted with artificial structures that could have been starships or sea vessels or both.

Litha frowned at the screen. "Um, where is the land?"

"There isn't any."

Her head swung over to Shepard. "Are you saying this 'Leviathan' is a _sea creature_?"

Shepard shrugged. "Well, I suppose it could be an _airborne_ creature…I mean if it's a Reaper, maybe it's just hanging out here? We know from Sovereign that the Reapers will hide in the shadows when they're not in force and use their puppets to act in their stead…I just can't figure where this Reaper expects to get its _force_. All its friends are dead."

Liara idly tapped the edge of a datapad on the table. "Well, they seem to be using their mind control abilities to take over colonies passively, which doesn't _require_ a force. We've lost five more."

"What?" Shepard looked over in surprise. She hadn't even had time to check the alerts, dammit, running from the bed to the shower to the conference room. She quickly called up the data on her Omni-tool.

_Systems Alliance Alert: Contact has been lost with Watson, Arvuna, Asteria, Proteus, and Trident. The Asari have lost contact with_ _Hyetiana and Nevos, along with their population on Asteria; the Turians have lost contact with the colony of Oma Ker. Alert status increased to Orange._

She pursed her lips tightly. "Son of a bitch…"

EDI spoke up. "Shepard, all the affected colonies have one thing in common – at least 30% planetary oceanic coverage."

She huffed a laugh, shaking her head. "Fuck, it _is_ in the water. And it's probably not the only one around."

James popped a cracker into his mouth. "Maybe this guy's the head dude – you know, like Harbinger was."

"Maybe…regardless, Liara made an excellent point. _They_ are taking over colonies via these artifacts, and they're doing so with minimal bloodshed. That means one of two things: They're physically weak, or at least not confident in their ability to conquer by force…or, if they _are_ Reapers, they're not like any ones I ever met. In fact, they seem to be acting quite contrary to the marching orders the Catalyst imposed on the Reapers."

James eyed her down the table. "So what does that mean?"

"That means I'm damn curious about what they _do_ want." She worried at her thumb for a moment. "Legion, any readings from the probe yet?"

The Legion AI's deep electronic voice filled the conference room. "Yes. The probe has narrowed down the signal to a 2.4-square kilometer area where there are a higher than average number of crashed vessels."

Shepard nodded decisively. "That's good enough for me. Everybody suit up."

Timah, who rarely talked much during briefings – or at all – cleared his throat. "Admiral…with respect, what are we planning to do once we get there?"

She quirked a wry grin. "If all goes well, we're going to _talk_ to it."

... ... ...

_2181 Despoina: Psi Tophet System, Sigurd's Cradle_

A heavy rain pelted the shuttle as soon as it broke through the lower atmospheric clouds, a cutting wind whipping around as Cortez worked to maintain their course.

EDI suddenly looked up at Shepard. "The final readings from the probe have come in. The target is approximately 1.1 kilometers…underwater."

Shepard glared at the ceiling. "That's just…_excellent_."

Cortez didn't look over his shoulder, focusing on holding the shuttle stable in the punishing winds. "Actually, it's fine. The Kodiak is rated for 1,200 atmospheres. EDI, that should cover us well beyond a kilometer here, right?"

EDI nodded. "Yes. The atmospheric pressure on Despoina is slightly less than Earth – "

The shuttle jerked and shuddered, throwing its occupants around and against the walls. Their angle of descent increased sharply.

"_Steve…"_

"We've been hit by some kind of energy pulse, thruster control is _gone_. There's a large wreck on the scope, I think I can make it there…everybody hold on, it's going to be a rough landing…"

And it was.

Shepard, EDI and Keenon managed to get strapped in before the shuttle made impact with the wreck; the rest weren't so lucky.

Liara moaned from the floor as the shuttle rumbled loudly to a stop, listing at a 30-degree angle. James was busy letting loose a string of profanities that would make a marine – which several of the occupants were – blush. EDI hurried over to Litha, who was out cold, while Shepard checked on Liara after Timah waved her off and struggled to a standing position.

Liara blinked several times, her irises finally focusing. She smiled weakly. "Shepard…"

Shepard grinned. "Hey…you alright?"

Liara nodded only slightly less weakly than she had smiled. "Help me up…" She adjusted to a reclining position against the seat, breathing in deeply.

Satisfied, Shepard stood and looked around. Everyone except Litha was at least conscious and not screaming in agony. "She okay, EDI?"

"She appears to have suffered a blow to the head, but her breathing is regular and she does not appear to have suffered any other injuries."

She nodded slowly. "So, Cortez, I'm guessing the Kodiak is no longer rated to 1,200 atmospheres?"

He sighed heavily. "Not at the moment, ma'am. In fact, we are dead in the…water. So to speak. I can't raise the Normandy either."

EDI left Liara with Litha and approached the cockpit. "There is an energy canopy approximately a kilometer above the ocean, disrupting anything that passes through it and blocking communications."

Shepard ran a hand slowly through her hair, staring at the shuttle floor. "Okay. Are we going to be able to get airborne again?"

Cortez nodded. "Eventually, I think. The circuits are fried but we have backups; the shuttle is physically banged up from the crash but she should be able to fly, at least in-atmosphere…I just don't know what will happen when we hit that energy canopy."

EDI helpfully supplied the answer. "I expect we will crash again."

"Right." Shepard moved forward to look out the viewports. "Where are we, exactly?"

"This appears to be a Systems Alliance research vessel. It was likely intending to initiate further exploration of Despoina." EDI paused briefly. "Based on the size and features of the vessel, it should have at least one Triton mech onboard."

"What does that mean, EDI?"

"It means that, should you so desire, you could go deep sea diving."

She huffed a breath, still staring out the viewports. "Deep sea diving" wasn't exactly in her considerable repertoire of skills; the last time she'd been more than a dozen or so meters underwater had been Special Forces training thirteen years ago.

Still, here she was. Crashed on a precarious, well, crash site, cut off from assistance, an extremely powerful yet curiously shy Reaper-type creature a kilometer beneath her feet who seemed to know who she was – _and how was it that all the ancient beings always knew who she was, anyway? Sure, she was famous enough among the Citadel species, but…damn._

Her options were…what, exactly? Repair the shuttle and take their chances escaping, likely only to be shot down again and this time likely not on a floating surface. And even if they succeeded in escaping, then what? Come back? Do the same routine again?

Or take a mech and go talk to the _thing_ she had come here to talk to in the first place. Admittedly, she hadn't intended to do it alone – but there really wasn't much anyone else would have been able to do from inside the shuttle, anyway.

She was sure there must be a third option in there somewhere, but damned if she could come up with it. Kaidan would have figured out what it was…

…but Kaidan wasn't here, was he?

She squeezed her eyes shut against the visceral stabbing pain that shot through her. _No matter. Later, Graceyn. Later, goddammit!_ The admonishment didn't work nearly so well as it usually did…but that didn't really matter either, did it? She and her team were stranded and the only realistic way off this watery planet was…down.

Whatever these things were, they weren't Reapers – or if they were, they were Reapers that had regrown independent thought and broken away from the Catalyst long, long ago. The Reapers couldn't be reasoned with because they were ultimately slaves of the Catalyst. The Catalyst couldn't be reasoned with because it had gone mad even longer ago. But these creatures had chosen a different path – so maybe, just maybe, they _could_ be reasoned with. Made to understand that the civilizations of this cycle didn't have to be their enemy.

Given the circumstances, it was as good a plan as any.

She looked back over her shoulder, eyes sharp and determined. "Okay. I'm going to go look for a Triton mech. Cortez, work on repairing the shuttle. EDI, Keenon, you're with me. Everyone else, patch each other up."

She opened the hatch and jumped out into the freezing rain. The wreck tilted and yawed beneath her feet, waves crashing against it and splashing icy sea water across her face. She had grown to love the ocean over the last few years but this…suffice it to say this was not her idea of a nice beach vacation. She steeled herself against the wind and the rain and turned toward the interior of the wrecked ship. "EDI, point me toward a mech."

Ten minutes later she stared up at the vaguely Atlas-looking contraption. "And this thing is going to protect me and keep me alive to several kilometers of depth?" she asked skeptically.

Keenon nodded intently as he reviewed the specs scrolling across his Omni-tool. "Yes, ma'am. It's rated to 2,000 atmospheres, which is a long way down – almost certainly deeper than this ocean reaches. It's not in perfect condition, but it's been reasonably well protected from the elements in this equipment locker. It seems to…" his Omni-tool ran over it again "…check out fine."

She nodded slowly…very slowly. "Okay then."

"It has a standard air supply rated for a minimum of three hours, a dozen flares for launch, underwater as well as land-based maneuvering controls, and emergency thrusters for rapid ascent should the need arise."

"Got it. " She popped the hatch and inspected the interior. "What about communications?"

EDI looked over at her. "You should be able to communicate with us, as we are beneath the energy canopy. There is no discernable reason our communications channels should not continue to function – unless there is further interference as you get closer to our foe."

"Alright. EDI, I want you scanning for signals that bear any similarities to the one this thing used to communicate with the artifact. We think there are more of them on other worlds; if they have telepathic-like communication abilities, they may be talking to each other – especially once I engage with one. We need to know where the rest of them are in case this little negotiation goes south."

"Of course, Shepard."

She looked up at the mech again. "Nothing left but to do it, is there?"

EDI smiled. "I suppose not."

She reached up and began unlatching her chest piece. "Armor isn't going to do me any good down there, and should I have to abandon ship for some reason it'll only drag me to a watery grave." She began handing over pieces of armor to Keenon, whose luminescent eyes widened briefly before awkwardly accepting the gear.

Stripped down to her underarmor, she shivered as she gamely climbed up and into the mech. Thankfully, the seating and layout were virtually identical to Atlas mechs. "Load me the probe's data on Leviathan's location." She looked around the controls a final time, then nodded decisively. "Okay. I've got this. You two get back to the shuttle and help with the repairs. And, you know, talk to me. I've heard the ocean floor is a quiet place."

She gave them a dazzling, fearless smile, then closed the hatch and marched toward the sea.

* * *

_To Be Continued_


	7. Leviathan, Conclusion

**If It Meant Living: Tales**

"**Leviathan, Conclusion"**

* * *

_SSV Agincourt: Zelene System, Crescent Nebula_

Kaidan relaxed a bit as the door to his small, temporary accommodations aboard the Agincourt closed behind him and he sat down at the tiny desk. Older and smaller than the Normandy, the Agincourt lacked much of its trappings.

Captain Gibralt had looked sharp today, displaying initiative and creativity as the simple infiltrate and grab op had inevitably gone south. It _had_ felt good to be out in the field again after far too many weeks stuck in an office – however nice and well-appointed an office it was.

He thought about it a moment…then laughed ruefully to himself.

Intellectually, he knew that being Director of Spectre Operations made him one of the most powerful people in the Citadel apparatus – and thus in the galaxy. He didn't just "manage" the Spectres – he had veto power over their selection, effectively decided when and where they would and wouldn't intervene, and exercised control over most operational decisions.

Still, as he had tried to absorb the tremendous responsibility and duties of the job, it had felt like something of a prison sentence, a thankless yet weighty task – all the more so because he had finally received the Admiralty promotion, only to go on "inactive" status to focus on his new position. It was if he had _retired_, and before his fortieth birthday.

Only now did he realize that it didn't have to be like that at all; that he was in fact _in charge_, and could make the job his own.

He leaned back in the chair and pulled up his favorite picture of her. It was from three years earlier, when he had taken her to the mountains north of Vancouver and shared his last remaining secrets. Though there had been scarring from the Reaper occupation that would take decades for nature to repair, that far into the wilderness much of the natural beauty remained. It had been a _good_ trip.

She was standing on a ledge with Whitecap Mountain in the distance and the world at her feet. Her hair was blowing freely in the wind as she looked over her shoulder, bright lavender eyes piercing the camera, and him. He smiled, wishing he could reach out and touch her through the picture.

He had never minded being second-fiddle to her. In fact, he was happy to stand in the background while she shone. But sitting behind that damnable desk while he stared at files and wondered whether he would be able to do the job or even _wanted_ to do the job while she gallivanted around the galaxy…he had started to doubt himself, and by proxy, them.

His life had changed; hers hadn't. It had seemed like that should mean something for _them_. Even now, hints of the thought pattern tugged in his mind, trying to pull him back, whispering that it _must _be significant. But he had been and was wrong. Stupid and childish, even.

To be sure, she _was_ a little too gung-ho about running off into danger – but that was one of the thousand things that made her the amazing, singular woman she was and he couldn't imagine her without it. He squeezed his eyes shut, glad to be working his way out of the funk but mostly feeling like a royal ass…

He was probably going to have to grovel the rest of the way out, of course. She was unlikely to accept a simple "I'm sorry" with a smile and a kiss. Nor should she. He had hurt her – had been hurting her for a little while now. He could only hope she would find her way through to forgiving him.

No time like the present to get started; most of all, he loved her and wanted nothing more right now than to hear her voice. He activated his Omni-tool to comm her – and only then noticed the blinking red indicator. He frowned, pulling up the military alert.

_Systems Alliance alert: Contact has been lost with Watson, Arvuna, Asteria, Proteus, and Trident. The Asari have lost contact with_ _Hyetiana and Nevos, along with their population on Asteria; the Turians have lost contact with the colony of Oma Ker. Alert status increased to Orange._

He sighed…she had also been right.

All the more reason to talk to her as soon as possible. He made the single touch to comm her…she didn't answer. That in and of itself wasn't overly unusual – she could be sleeping or showering or, more likely, getting shot at. He thought about it a moment then commed the Normandy.

"This is the Norman– oh, Alenko…hi. What do you need?"

"Shepard isn't answering her comm. I was just wondering what her status was?"

"Um, she's…groundside…right now."

"I figured as much. Any idea what her ETA is?"

"Uh…no, not really, it's, um – "

Kaidan frowned. "Joker, what's going on? She didn't tell you not to put me through, did she?"

"What? No, why would she do that? She's just…uh…unavailable right now…"

He sat up straighter at the desk. "_Joker._ What. Is. Going. On? That is a direct request from your superior officer, so you damn well better answer."

"Well technically you're inactive, so I'm not sure – "

"JOKER!"

"Right. See, we've kind of lost contact with the shuttle…and the team. There's some sort of interference blocking all communications with the planet's surface, and I think that's probably why all those ships crashed down there, but _anyway_. Legion says it can read their vitals and they're alive, so that's good, right?" He sighed through the comm. "I don't know what to do, Kaidan. I mean I'd contact Alliance Command, but they'll take four days and form a committee to analyze the proper strategy…"

"Where are you?"

"Sigurd's Cradle, this planet called Despoina."

"Why?"

"Cause…that's where this 'Leviathan' thing is…"

"I'm on the way."

He stood up and hurried out of his quarters for the cockpit. He was relieved to find Gibralt there talking with the pilot – one less stop to make. "I'm sorry, Captain, but I'm commandeering this vessel for an emergency operation. Council Spectre Authorization Charlie-Four-Six-Delta-Two."

The pilot entered the code, then looked up and shrugged. "Okay, sir, the ship's yours. Where are we going?"

... ... ...

_2181 Despoina: Psi Tophet System, Sigurd's Cradle_

She fell.

Only it was more of a floating really. A soft, leisurely floating…headlong toward the dark depths of the ocean floor.

As the ocean surrounded the bubble of her mech and the meager light grew dimmer, she briefly wondered how she always managed to get herself into these situations. She could have been a middling officer in the Alliance Navy, served with moderate distinction, managed to survive the Reaper War on a no-name starship – putting aside for the moment the fact that the Reaper War would have been lost had she been a middling officer on a no-name starship – and mustered out to an early retirement.

But _noooo_. She had to open her mouth, make the shot, save the day – enough times that someone noticed, then another someone, then another. She had to intercept the Beacon, accept the Spectres, chase Saren, kill Sovereign. She had to be singular enough to get resurrected, destroy the Collectors, lead the galaxy to the defeat of the Reapers.

She had to be the one to fall into the dark, icy depths of an ocean on some remote, desolate planet in order to try to talk sense into an ancient being that could control entire populations with a thought.

Well, she mused wryly, at least it hadn't been boring…

She laughed at herself in the suffocating silence…irreverent to the last, was she? The memory of a night, one of countless such nights but singular in meaning and worth, rose in her mind…

_She closed her eyes, willing the tears away. This was not a sad moment; this was a celebration of beautiful, wondrous life. "I need you to know that being with you, loving you and having you is the single most important thing I've ever done."_

Even now, it _was_. _Kaidan, I – _

The ocean floor suddenly rushed up beneath her. She frantically tried to slow her descent, then crashed to the floor with a solid thud. After checking to make sure that critical systems were still functional, she made an effort to shake off the lingering fog of introspection as she hit her comm. "I'm, um, groundside, so to speak. The probe is about sixty meters to my northeast."

There was no response. Further interference as she got closer to their foe, no doubt.

She ignored the dark, oppressive atmosphere surrounding her and trudged forward toward her target. Once she took a moment to look around, it really was beautiful – in a depressing, Edvard Munch kind of way. A few sea creatures flitted across her path, creating bright bubbles that popped and vanished as they floated upward. Plants swayed peacefully in the current, doing what plants did. They didn't care for the machinations of the organics and synthetics around them, she thought; they simply ate, and grew, and swayed.

It was a bit of a surprise when the probe began beeping brightly on both her HUD and in her actual vision. She put aside her communion with all things _plant_ and refocused on the task at hand. Again. The probe was here, but there was nothing else. She moved forward out onto a ledge of sorts, smiling at the brief moment of _d__é__ja vu_ to a moment on Rannoch.

Then there was a disturbance in the water. Bubbles. Ripples. She halted the mech and waited.

Before her rose a Reaper. And yet…_not_. It bore the basic shape of the Sovereign-class Reapers, but it was distinctly _organic_. It breathed and moved as an organic would. It was not synthetic in any noticeable way. It was –

_You are the Anomaly. The Nexus around which events and civilizations revolve._

If you want to put it _that_ way… "I am Systems Alliance Admiral and Citadel Council Spectre Graceyn Shepard, and I am here to tell you that we need not be enemies."

Two more creatures rose up to either side of it.

_You are the one that killed our Creation, and its tools._

Well wasn't _that_ interesting…explained why Reapers looked the way they did. "Yes. I killed the Catalyst and destroyed the Reapers. I don't want to have to kill you. This cycle is not a threat to you; we welcome all species, organic and synthetic – "

_Your kind will make a most useful subjugated species. Skilled; intelligent; resourceful._

She frowned behind the heavy glass. "I'm sorry…a subjugated species? You'll find that we don't really take too kindly to attempts to subjugate us."

_All species submit; all species serve. We were the Apex species of our time; our Creation betrayed us, forced us to retreat – but you have removed that threat and brought an end to The Harvest._

That she had. "That was four years ago – why wait until now to make yourselves known?"

_Time moves for us as it does for the galaxy – your 'years' are to us a blink, a thought. We watched, waiting to see the form civilization would take after our Creation had fallen. We see it is much as it was, and know we can now reassume our proper place in the galaxy._

"Huh. And that 'proper place' would be…?"

_As rulers, guiders…we have known untold cycles, untold ages; our wisdom was supreme at the beginning, so shall it be for eternity._

She frowned deeply, raising an eyebrow in challenge though she knew they likely could neither see it nor recognize it for what it was. "You do realize that _I_ defeated the thing that defeated _you_, right? How _exactly_ does that make you superior to me?"

_You are the Anomaly, the Nexus. You are unique, and not representative of your species or any other. The appearance of one such as yourself at some point in the eons of time was not unexpected – but you are irrelevant to the larger reality. You will merely make an especially useful servant as we reassert our rightful dominance over the galaxy._

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. It _really_ shouldn't have said that. No one would _ever_ own her. "A useful servant…is that so? I thought you weren't 'ready' for me."

_Our return is only at a beginning; it is true we intended to gain greater influence before drawing you to us. But it is no matter. You are here, and you are ours. _

Her head suddenly slammed back as the Leviathan invaded her mind. Pushing, probing, whispering, encouraging. _Serve us. Follow us. Submit to us. It's easy. Comforting. Life will go on as it did before. You will be allowed to live, produce, thrive. All you have to do is submit to those wiser and stronger than yourself. _

_Do not struggle against the inevitable. If you fight, neither you nor the other lesser beings on the surface will ever leave this place. We do not need you – but we will have you._

But she had been mind-probed more than once before. She concentrated on putting up a wall in her mind and keeping the insistent voice on the other side of it.

She couldn't open her eyes from the sheer force of the mental invasion, but she had been studying the creatures the entire "conversation." They were definitely organic – while their exterior was surely tough and hardy, it was not Reaper skin; it was not synthetic or made of advanced materials. It could be penetrated.

_Joker._

In the cockpit of the Normandy, Joker jerked in his chair, looking around in surprise. What the…oh, yeah. That tele-comm device thing EDI had insisted he get implanted while he was on the operating table getting bone weaves that he _still_ couldn't use.

"Wha– Shepard?" He belatedly wondered if he was supposed to think it or speak it…but speaking it seemed to work.

_Yes. I need you to get my – _

"Is everyone okay? I haven't been able to reach anyone!"

_Everyone's fine. They're crashed, but alive and in one piece. Now I'm going to hard-ping this little implant, and I need you to get my location off it._

"Can it _do_ that?"

_According to the manufacturer it can. Hell, I'm not even sure how it's getting around the energy canopy, unless its bio-synthetic signals aren't registering somehow – but I'll take it. You ready?_

"Yeah. Sure."

She concentrated, sending a…thought, for lack of a better term.

Suddenly her coordinates 'appeared' in his brain; he simply knew them. "Uh…got it…that's just weird as f– you're a kilometer _underwater_?"

_Yes. Listen to me. I need you to bomb the hell out of the location fifty meters to my northwest with the Thanix Cannons _and_ the Javelin torpedoes._

"Oka– wait, no. Shepard, fifty meters isn't exactly a safe distance. You'll be crushed by the shockwave."

She exhaled heavily. Probably. But these arrogant little fuckhead sea monsters had taken out eight colonies in a week and showed no inclination to stop until they subjugated the entire galaxy. So she would do what she always did. Save the day.

_I'll be fine. I have emergency thrusters, I'll use them as soon as you fire. I'll get clear of the blast._

She could feel them _pushing, probing, whispering,_ and knew she wouldn't be able to keep them out for much longer.

"But…no…you'll…Shepard, I won't kill you again, dammit!"

She smiled to herself. _It was never your fault, Jeff. And you won't kill me this time. I'll get clear, I promise. Now I need you to do this. These creatures are a threat to the galaxy, but we can take them out here and now._

He sagged down in his beloved chair. If only EDI were here, she would tell him the right thing to do… "Are you _sure_?"

She closed her eyes and sent a silent thought across the galaxy to Kaidan, wherever he was, though she knew there was no way he could get it.

_Know that I love you, always._

She willfully forced her eyes open and stared defiantly at the beings before her. _Yes. It's the only way. Fire the weapons, Joker. Now._

He sighed heavily, then straightened up in the chair. "Okay. Locked just northwest of your position and…firing. Get out of there, Shepard!"

She hit the emergency thrusters, smiling a bit at the water bubbling furiously as it rushed past her. Then there was a deep _boom_ that penetrated her bones, a heavy _push_ against the mech – and everything went black.

... ... ...

_SSV Agincourt: Sigurd's Cradle_

Kaidan jolted awake. He'd been having the strangest dream…it had felt as though he were drowning, then Graceyn…he hit his comm. "What's our status?"

"We're about forty minutes out from the Psi Tophet system, sir."

"Thank you. I'll be up in a few." He hadn't even meant to fall asleep. He pushed off the meager covers and headed for the shower, unable and unwilling to shake off the incredible feeling of warmth and love that had followed him from his dream.

Twenty minutes later he commed the Normandy as he headed up to the cockpit. "Joker, it's Kaidan. We're half an hour out from Despoina. What's it look like? Any word from Shepard or the team?"

There was a long pause. When it came over the comm, Joker's voice was shaky and uneven. "Kaidan…I don't…she made me do it…"

The warmth there had been before was shoved aside in favor of a creeping chill. He froze in his tracks halfway up the CIC. "Made you do _what_?"

"She…she said they were a threat, ordered me to fire…she said she'd get clear! She promised! I don't…I think I killed her…again…"

His vision darkened, narrowing in to the meter in front of him. "What _happened_?"

There was a moment of silence, then a deep breath. "There was comm interference, like I said – but then she hit me through this tele-comm implant. She was underwater, in a mech, and she said the creatures were a threat to the galaxy, and that I had to bomb them. She said she'd get clear. So I did."

A gulp of air. "And it worked – the comms cleared up, and I reached the rest of the team. But Shepard…she…her locator is still reading, but she's almost 200 meters down and…it's been four hours, Kaidan, and the mech only had air for three."

Kaidan's jaw clenched so tightly it would surely shatter, and he wanted more than anything to smash through the starship's viewports and…and…he tried to focus. "What about the Kodiak? It's rated for underwater – "

"The Kodiak's busted, man. I mean, they got it airborne, it's on the Normandy now, but its frame's busted, it can't dive. I called for an emergency rescue team, but they're still three hours out…"

His vision suddenly cleared as the world snapped into hyper-sharp focus, all hard edges and bright reflections. "I've got a shuttle, but not a shuttle pilot. Is Cortez aboard?"

"Yeah, he's – "

"Can the Kodiak fly at all?"

"Um…" there was muffled chatter "…in-atmosphere, yeah; it can't take the space vacuum though. Kaidan, she – "

"I'll be there in twenty minutes. Send Cortez over in the shuttle. Who else is on board?"

"Uh, EDI, Liara, Palamin, Vega, Keenon– "

"Send Vega, too. Make sure they have her coordinates. I'll take it from there."

"Alright…Kaidan, I'm…I'm sorry. She _promised_."

"I know, Jeff."

... ... ...

_SSV Agincourt: 2181 Despoina_

Kaidan exited the elevator as the Normandy's Kodiak settled into the Agincourt's cramped shuttle bay, wind and rain whipping around through the open bay door.

James and Steve stepped out of the shuttle, devastated expressions weighing down their faces; Steve's eyes were laced with streaks of red.

Kaidan glanced over at them as he approached the Agincourt's Kodiak. "Don't look at me like that. Do you have her coordinates?"

Steve nodded tightly. "Sir, the Kodiaks are rated for deep sea dives, but – we can't open the hatch underwater. I don't understand how we're going to – "

Kaidan looked at the young man standing at attention by the shuttle. "Is everything I asked for aboard?"

"Yes, sir. Thermal wraps, oxygen masks, and a full medical kit."

"Thank you, Yeoman. Dismissed."

He hurried over to the equipment locker and grabbed a harness, pulling it around his back and fastening the latches over his chest. "That's why you're going to drag me down there."

He finished securing the harness and dug around in the locker for the small air backpack and mask all ships carried and almost never used. "I get her out of the mech and you tow us both back to the surface. She's been in the pressurized mech, so the Bends shouldn't be a problem."

"Not for her, but what about you?"

"Get me there and back fast enough, and I'll be fine." He tested out the mask then draped it around his neck, securing the pack to his back and the supplemental emergency mask to his hip.

James sighed heavily, looking around the shuttle bay, his voice heavy and defeated. "What's my job here?"

Kaidan's eyes met James' as he strode quickly past…James had never seen anything like them before. Flashing, tiny pupils were surrounded entirely by bright, hard, glowing blue. There was no swirling, no hint of brown within; it was as if the biotic energy had taken up permanent residence in his irises. Yet the man was not otherwise flaring, had no hint of biotics around him. The otherworldly sight chilled James to the bone.

"You're going to pull us back into the shuttle once we're on the surface." Kaidan climbed onto the back of the shuttle and hooked a line to the wench and the other end to his harness. He pulled the mask up over his mouth and grabbed ahold of the shuttle frame.

"Let's go. Now."

They nodded and hurried into the shuttle cockpit.

Kaidan gasped as the shuttle hit the water and dove. _Jesus, it was cold._ He reminded himself to breathe, slow and even.

There were strange clumps of…flesh, bone and a hard chitinous material…floating in the water, some as large as several meters in diameter; the water had a rust hue to it. She had indeed blown _something_ to hell and back, that much was clear. God, if she was gone, if she hadn't known – _S__top. Don't think. Just save her._

The shuttle was fast, and he quickly caught sight of the large brown mech smashed against a rocky outcropping. Coral and fronds swayed around it peacefully; a greenish-yellow plant flitted across the glass hatch.

He let go of the shuttle frame as it slowed and dove toward her, suddenly incredibly thankful for having grown up in Vancouver, if only because it meant he had learned to swim at a young age. He propelled himself down, cursing the heavy boots that slowed him. Then he was at the mech, pushing away the plants covering the glass and peering inside.

There must be a tiny crack in the frame; water had filled three-quarters of the mech and was lapping at her chin. _Another few minutes and she would drown._ Her eyes were closed, chin dropped against her chest. Blood trickled down her left temple and cheek from her hairline; a thin line of blood had crusted beneath her nostrils.

He briefly froze in panic at the sight. _Was she breathing? Was she – _ the water at her chin rippled just slightly away from her, opposite the flow. _She had exhaled._ He could only figure that, being unconscious, her breathing had been shallow enough to extend the air supply – but it didn't matter how. _She had exhaled_.

He pushed himself down the body of the mech to the release latch, unfastened the emergency mask from his hip, and moved to the side. Then in one fluid motion he flipped the latch, lifted the frame up as water flooded in, and swung around, shoving the mask onto her face.

Still, it wasn't quite fast enough; water had filled the mech completely, and she breathed in a little. Frantically he pumped the water behind the mask out then turned on the air flow. He could see water dribble out from her lips; her body jerked in the mech's harness as air fought with water in her lungs. He quickly unfastened the harness and grabbed ahold of her as she fell lifelessly into his arms.

Choking back a cry, he circled his arms around her waist then quickly signaled on his Omni-tool.

_GO_

The line went taut and they were pulled upward and back. He held her tight against him as they were dragged up through the dark, silent, icy water, his tears disappearing into the sea as they fell.

Then suddenly the line slackened as the shuttle breached the surface. He let go with his left arm, squeezing her tighter against him with his right as he propelled them up. The oppressive silence of the ocean vanished, replaced by howling wind and biting rain as they were thrashed about in the waves. He rolled onto his back and stroked backward toward the shuttle as its hatch opened.

James was lying on his stomach, muscled arms reaching out. He worked to keep her head above the choppy waters and slipped her air mask off, then lifted her up. James grasped her shoulders then slid his hands under her arms; Kaidan let her go. A moment later James' arm was again extended; he took it, grabbing the floor of the shuttle with the other and hauling himself up.

He was crouched beside her before the hatch had closed, reaching out with one hand to take the thermal wrap from James. _God, she was freezing…_ Her skin was ghost-white and clammy, her lips blue, her hair tangled and plastered to her face.

He shifted her onto her side to spread the wrap underneath her then draped it over her chest and legs. He checked to make sure she was still breathing – if only just barely – then secured the medical mask over her mouth and turned on the oxygen flow. Only then did he pull off his own mask, tossing it haphazardly over his back.

He carefully pulled her up by the shoulders into his arms, making sure the thermal wrap stayed securely around her. He cradled her gently, rocking her slowly against his chest. The driven, single-minded force that had propelled him forward for the last hour collapsed now that he had done all he could to _save her_ – and what remained behind was blind desperation.

"Come on, baby…come back to me…"

Steve glanced over his shoulder at them; James' gaze met his, his head shaking slowly. Steve swallowed hard. "We'll be on the Normandy in two minutes, sir. A medical team is standing by."

He didn't respond, everything he _was_ focused on the woman lying limply in his arms. He reached up and gently brushed away the wet strands of hair clinging to her forehead even as water dripped from his soaked hair and fell to her cheek.

"_Please…"_

Her eyelids fluttered.

He sucked in a breath as she blinked, then blinked again. Slowly her eyes opened, blurry and unfocused. After a moment they rose to meet his, and immediately widened. He smiled tenderly, tears brimming in eyes that were once again golden-brown as soft swirls of blue faded away.

"Hey, baby."

In a surge of movement, her arms rose and encircled his neck as she leaned up and pulled him against her. Her voice was muffled through the mask, teeth chattering uncontrollably. "Y-y-ou c-came for-r m-me…"

He squeezed his eyes shut as relief flooded his veins, coursing through him like heroin. "I'll _always_ come for you."

She drew back slightly as she fumbled with the mask; he tried to stop her. "No, you should – " She pushed it over her head and let it drop it to the floor as she fell shivering against him, burying her face in his neck; his arms tightened around her.

"I'm-m s-s-sor-ry…"

He huffed a breath against her hair, at once desperate and joyous. "You don't have anything to be sorry for – you were right about everything."

"N-not-t wor– " A fit of wet, gurgled coughing overtook her, her body wracking against his chest.

"It's okay, don't try to talk – " He grabbed the mask off the floor and tried to place it back against her mouth, but she pushed it away, sucking in deep breaths until the coughs subsided. Then she was back in his arms, her cold, wet forehead pressed against his.

"N-not wor-rth it if I l-lose y-you…"

He kissed her forehead softly then pulled her closer, suddenly realizing he was shivering, too. His voice was a ragged whisper against her cheek. "You haven't lost me. _You haven't lost me._"

* * *

_Presidium, The Citadel: Widow System, Serpent Nebula _

The Situation Room was full, bordering on crowded. Admirals Johnson and Zhou from the Systems Alliance Admiralty Board; Matriarchs Lidanya, Neliptis and Calon from Asari High Command; and Generals Corinthus and Mehrkuri from the Turian Hierarchy all stood near the front of the room, terminals within easy reach if needed.

The Council members stood along the right wall, holo-screens hovering unattached in the air at their fingertips. Numerous aides flitted about the room. Liara leaned casually against the wall, chatting quietly with the Asari Councilor.

A wall of displays dominated the front wall. They showed images of thirteen planets, varied in color, terrain and size. They shared only the prevalence of oceans in their topography – and the presence of the remaining Leviathan creatures, as tracked by EDI from Despoina a mere four days earlier.

Faced with more colonies dropping off the map with each passing day, the militaries of the affected species had moved with shocking speed – planning, organizing and mobilizing a multi-lateral force and coordinated strike plan in record time.

Shepard stood next to Anderson. She peeked over at the rapidly-updating information on his holo-screen. "When can I get one of those?" she asked enviously, gesturing at the dynamic free-floating display.

"Tomorrow, I imagine, if you want one." He chuckled lightly as he glanced over at her.

She wore a form-fitting black nanofiber fleece pullover, the sleeves stretched low over her wrists, the neck tapering off just below her earlobes. A tiny "N7" emblem adorned the neckline. Matching black pants hugged her legs, complimenting her curves though that wasn't their primary purpose.

She was still cold nearly all the time, even in the warmest of rooms; it was as if the icy, dark waters had seeped into her bones. But not quite _so_ cold, she thought, a smile pulling at her lips, as Kaidan's hand grasped hers and his warmth slowly spread to her.

He stood just behind and to the side of her, his right shoulder lightly touching her left. He wore only dark blue BDUs, though they were crisp enough to pass for a dress uniform.

She looked over her shoulder, sharing her smile with him. He leaned in and was about to whisper something in her ear when Admiral Zhou stepped forward, clearing his throat.

"The remaining Cruisers have reported in; they are in position. If everyone is ready…" A series of nods rippled across the room. He hit his comm. "Operation Exorcism is a go. I repeat, Operation Exorcism is a go. All ships, open fire."

The display wall lit up in light and motion. Missiles and lasers shot across the screens and into the watery depths of more than a dozen planets.

In some cases, plumes of water shot back up into the sky from the resulting explosions; in other cases the targets were so deep as for the recoil to remain hidden beneath the seas. Chatter from comms filled the room as action reports were relayed in real-time.

"Confirmed hits on Arvuna…Nevos…Trident…miss on Proteus, recalibrating…hits on Altakiril, Oma Ker…retaliatory missiles launched from Watson and Hyetiana – successfully evaded…miss on Asteria, recalibrating…hits on Watson, Lesuss, Trategos, Bekenstein…hit on Hyetiana, hit on Proteus…hits on Cyone and Asteria."

The Council comm officer listened for another moment then looked up from his terminal. "Reporting one hundred percent confirmed kills. That's all of them, sirs."

A chorus of applause and cheers erupted, along with smiles, handshakes, and a few high-fives. Anderson patted Shepard on the back. "Thank you, Shepard. We're all in your debt." Then he stepped forward into the crowd to shake Admirals Johnson's and Zhou's hands. "Nice work, all of you."

Kaidan's arms circled around her waist; he pulled her back close against him, not giving a damn who saw them. "You did it again, Graceyn," he whispered in her ear before kissing it tenderly.

She glanced at the wall displays a last time, then turned around to face him, a soft smile on her face as her fingers threaded through his.

"Let's go home."

* * *

_Author's Note: I'm not going to mark "Tales" as complete, because there are more tales to be told...but I will now be concentrating most of my attention on "Beyond": (fanfiction dot net)/s/8750955/1/  
_


	8. We're Dancing Now

**If It Meant Living: Tales**

"**We're Dancing Now"**

* * *

_A/N: Entry for #GamingLoveInterests "Caught in the Rain" contest on Deviant Art.  
_

* * *

"It was you

Who could get me high, with whatever you say

Telling me something real

What we do, it doesn't matter now

When I was caught in the rain

You made me feel"

– "Caught in the Rain," Revis

* * *

_**November, 2185**_

_Vancouver_

Kaidan stepped out of the spaceport to overcast skies. _Figures_, he thought.

Unlike the Seattle neighborhoods further south, it rarely rained in Vancouver during the fall. But it was almost winter now, and if it were going to rain, today _would_ be the day.

He was running. He supposed he was running home, though he doubted he would visit his parents while here. He was definitely running away – from Horizon, from the miracle and the nightmare that had been coming face to face with a ghost.

He had stopped at the Citadel just long enough to drop off his report and grab a change of clothes, then had taken weekend leave and caught a shuttle for Earth. He hadn't spoken to a solitary soul; he was a shell, an automaton putting one foot in front of the other as required to get from one place to the other. Yet on the inside his mind reeled and thrashed like a drowning castaway, unable to find a mooring from which it could get any kind of grip on what had happened.

He was probably in shock, he thought idly as he descended the wide steps and turned left onto the pedestrian walkway that curved toward English Bay. But since he was Kaidan Alenko, he seemed to the outside world like his normal self – calm, controlled, even.

He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the damp, cool air as he reached the beginnings of the park that stretched for kilometers along the Bay and into Burrard Inlet. The heavy clouds had warned most visitors away; the foot and bike traffic was light. That was good. He wanted to be alone.

_She was soaked in sweat; her hair was an absolute mess. A piece of her black armor was cracked and dangling off her arm; husk gore streaked the rest of it. She was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen._

She had stood confidently in front of him, as though she were somehow _real_, risen from a frozen grave.

_There had been no greater moment in his life than saving the galaxy at her side. Oh god he had loved her, so, very, very much._

But that was impossible. No one came back from the dead. No one.

_He lurched forward, grabbing her arm and squeezing it hard. "Are you even really _her_? What are you? Are you a clone? A machine?" His grip tightened. "Do you even _feel_ this?" _

_She threw his arm off roughly. "Yes, goddammit!" Her eyes were wide and pleading; they sparked and flared, swirls of blue threatening at the edges. "I…I'm me. I don't know what else to tell you… Don't you _know_? Can't you _see_?" _

_His eyes darkened and turned cold. Dead. Empty. "The Shepard I knew died two years ago at Alchera. I don't know who you are."_

His hand came to his mouth as he choked back a cry. How could it have been anyone else when she looked at him _that way_?

But if it _was_ her, then_…_she had left him. Turned her back on him, on the Normandy, on the Alliance, on the Spectres. To work with _terrorists_. Terrorists he had truly believed she despised.

He was a well-grounded guy. Maybe a little idealistic, but hardly whimsical. He had no illusions about the way the world worked. And there was simply no way in which he could arrange those disparate facts within his concept of the universe that made _any_ sense.

He recalled something she had said once, when he had been struggling to understand the infuriating decisions made by the Council. _Whenever you think you are facing a contradiction, check your premises. You will find that one of them is wrong._

No one came back from the dead. But what if _she_ did?

The first raindrop splattered on the bridge of his nose.

... ... ...

_Nodacrux: Two Years, Six Months Earlier_

Garrus hiked a foot up onto the dash of the Mako as it bounced lightly along the uneven ground. "Remind me – what _exactly_ are we doing down here?"

Shepard glared out the windshield. "We're tracking down readings of some kind of rare polonium, because Adams _wants_ some rare polonium. And since we don't have a fucking clue _where_ Saren is or _how_ to find him, we have nothing better to do than indulge Adams' whims."

Garrus nodded tightly and studied the suddenly interesting dashboard. "Right."

Kaidan was a little taken aback at the unusual sharpness in her voice, but not overly surprised. He knew she was frustrated and feeling the pressure. Every day Saren remained on the loose was a day that brought the Reapers closer.

Abruptly the Mako came to a halt. She looked over at them. "Anybody want to go for a walk? The next reading is up in those hills; I could use the exercise."

He peered out the side viewport. The air here was breathable, the temperature reasonable. He shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

Garrus frowned. "I know it looks nice out there right now, but the files indicate this planet's climate has a propensity for kicking up nasty thunderstorms out of nowhere."

Shepard gazed at him plaintively, like a child desperate for the new toy on the store shelf. "Come _on_, we'll be fine_…_"

His mandibles twitched. "Tell you what. I don't care about the exercise – I'll stay with the Mako, and if you get caught in a storm, you can comm me and I'll come save your asses."

"Are you _sure_? You'll be bored."

He chuckled. "As opposed to now? I'm sure."

She practically squealed in delight. "Come on, Lieutenant. Let's take a stroll."

It would have been wrong of him to be glad that Garrus was staying behind. He liked Garrus. Garrus was pleasant company. Yep, definitely wrong. He quickly grabbed the resource pack and scrambled out of the Mako after her.

Her mood seemed to lighten in the fresh air. They chatted as they hiked through the rolling hills; she shared tales of crazy things she had seen on special forces missions, and she somehow managed to get him to talk a little about his childhood.

It was easy; comfortable. He thought maybe they were becoming friends. He decided he was _definitely_ glad Garrus had stayed behind.

By the time they reached the polonium deposit, the skies were starting to cloud over. They crouched down with the excavation tools and dug out as much as would fit in the pack. He quickly cinched it up as the first drops of rain began falling.

In an instant it was a downpour. Fat, heavy drops splashed on the ground and on his head. In seconds he was soaked to the bone. He stood, draping the pack over his shoulder, and turned to Shepard.

Her face was lifted to the sky, her arms spread and palms open. Her fiery hair was plastered against her cheeks and neck, but her expression was one of pure joy.

_She was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen._

He struggled to tamp down his suddenly racing heartbeat. Realizing he had been staring openly at her for an inordinate amount of time, he cleared his throat. "Um, Commander, should we tell Garrus to come pick us up?"

She laughed and spun around in slow circles, spreading her arms even wider as if to capture more of the rain in her orbit. "What, you don't like dancing in the rain, Kaidan?"

_It was the first time she had called him by his first name._ It had fallen effortlessly from her lips, the lilting tenor of her voice gifting it with qualities he had never known it possessed.

Several of his internal control mechanisms immediately short-circuited upon hearing it. He grinned in amusement. "We're dancing now, are we?" _Ma'am. He had forgotten to say 'ma'am'…oh, to hell with it._

Her lips quirked up. The left side of her mouth rose slightly more than the right, he noticed. It made her look young, innocent, carefree. He loved it.

Her hand reached out to him. "Sure, why not?"

Not daring to stop to think, he dropped the pack on the ground and took it.

They danced in the rain. Playfully, lightheartedly – and chastely. Arms-length apart, they swung each other around, laughing as they tried not to slip in the rapidly muddying dirt. He lifted an arm high and she pirouetted beneath it, twirling like a ballerina, if a bit clumsily in combat boots. Then he grasped her other hand and sent her in the opposite direction; she arched her spine and leaned back dramatically, tossing her arm out in a flourish as though she were a ballroom dancer. As she straightened up she curled back in toward him.

He probably was supposed to spin her again, or back away to circle around once more. He didn't.

She came to a halt in front of him, no more than centimeters away. Her hands were clasped in his. Droplets of water were streaming down her face, lingering on her thick lashes then caressing her cheekbones before tracing her neck and pooling in the hollow of her throat. She was breathing heavily from the exertion of the "dance" and the thin atmosphere; her chest rose and fell rhythmically. Her lips had parted slightly.

Her eyes were wide, as if she had been caught by surprise. But she was the one who had stopped. And she was making no attempt to move away.

His own eyes longed to trace every curve of her face, the outline of her lips, the arch of her eyebrows – but they were held hostage by brilliant lavender irises. They glittered brightly, reflecting the rain that fell in the miniscule space between them. Space that seemed to be getting smaller and smaller of its own volition –

– Her comm squawked loudly. "Hey, Commander – it looks like you've got a rainstorm headed straight for you. Want me to come pick you up?"

She blinked rapidly. Her throat worked until finally words came out. "Um_…_" her brow furrowed in consternation at him, as if he were some peculiar alien artifact she had happened upon "_…_yeah, I suppose so. We're not going to be able to do any mining in this weather anyway."

She was still staring at him strangely as her comm went silent. In an act _far_ outside his usual prudence, he brought one of her hands up to his lips, bowed, and kissed it softly. "Thank you for the dance, Commander." Then he gently let go and took a step back.

She bit her lower lip, sending his pulse into a dance of a different kind. Her eyes shone, bringing light to the rain. "Please, when we're alone, it's just Shepard."

He swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump that had materialized in his throat. "Are we, um, going to be alone more in the future?" _Jesus, had _all_ his internal control mechanisms short-circuited?_

She just grinned mischievously at him, then tossed the pack over her shoulder and started down the rain-soaked hill.

... ... ...

_Vancouver_

The Bay was a misty, gunmetal gray under the heavy sheets of rain. He was drenched, he suddenly realized, the rain chilling his skin through his BDUs. How long had he been standing there, lost in the memory?

He looked around for a temporary shelter, and hurried over to a nearby snack hut. When he reached it he leaned against the wall under the meager canopy and activated his Omni-tool.

He didn't _care_ that it didn't make sense; he didn't even care that it was impossible.

She was _in_ this world, and nothing else mattered.

He called up her address, opened a new message, and began typing.

* * *

_A/N: Technically, this story is not _quite_ canon with "If It Meant Living," at least in a few historical details. But this is definitely Graceyn Shepard and her Kaidan Alenko, and it was written in the spirit of IIML, so I elected to publish it under "Tales" anyway :).  
_


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